


a lover not a fighter (on the front line with a poem)

by collegefangirl3791, skywalking-across-the-galaxy (BadWolfGirl01)



Series: these battle scars [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (past) - Freeform, Brain Damage, Companion Piece, Cute Kids, Declarations Of Love, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Healing, Force-sensitive Kix, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, Mando'a, Medical Trauma, Memory Loss, Panic Attacks, Past Torture, Picnics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Recovery, Romance, Slow Burn, The Dark Side of the Force, The Force Ships It, The Light Side of the Force, Two Shot, because it got too long to be a one shot, it got long, jk three chapters now, lil bb Caleb Dume is saaaad, of sorts, oxygen starvation and its effects, precious bbs are precious, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-14 03:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 43,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14761619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collegefangirl3791/pseuds/collegefangirl3791, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl01/pseuds/skywalking-across-the-galaxy
Summary: Six standard days after the Battle of Mustafar, give or take a little, Bo-Katan and the Kyr’tsad come back to Coruscant.When Elle comes into the medbay, Ca’tra is laying on her stomach on her bunk, watching an episode of Hero With No Fear on the datapad Kix had gotten for her; it’s the pilot episode, a long one that’s supposedly about the first Geonosis--it’s horribly inaccurate, but funny, and she can see why the jetii, Ahsoka, likes it so much. She looks up from the datapad at the sound of the door opening, is already looking back down when she she recognizes the familiar paint job and colors as her sister’s armor, and she pauses the holo, pushes herself to a sitting position and smiles.Elle looks tired and weary, but she smiles warmly and crosses the medbay to stand in front of Ca’tra’s bunk, sets her helmet down on the floor. Starts to open her mouth, to speak, but Ca’tra forestalls her, gets to her feet (carefully) and flings her arms tightly around her ori’vod. Squeezes her arms, as though she could convey everything she’s feeling through osmosis. I missed you.[or: a brief look at Kix, Ca'tra, and the road to healing.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this has two chapters, because 14k words in we still have 2 more scenes to write, so... this is just a lil companion piece that focuses on Ca'tra and Kix and healing, because we love the bbs and we really enjoy writing them! 
> 
> we'd love to hear from you guys if you like them as much as we do :)

Six standard days after the Battle of Mustafar, give or take a little, Bo-Katan and the Kyr’tsad come back to Coruscant.

When Elle comes into the medbay, Ca’tra is laying on her stomach on her bunk, watching an episode of Hero With No Fear on the datapad Kix had gotten for her; it’s the pilot episode, a long one that’s supposedly about the first Geonosis--it’s horribly inaccurate, but  _ funny, _ and she can see why the  _ jetii, _ Ahsoka, likes it so much. She looks up from the datapad at the sound of the door opening, is already looking back down when she she recognizes the familiar paint job and colors as her sister’s armor, and she pauses the holo, pushes herself to a sitting position and smiles.

Elle looks tired and weary, but she smiles warmly and crosses the medbay to stand in front of Ca’tra’s bunk, sets her helmet down on the floor. Starts to open her mouth, to speak, but Ca’tra forestalls her, gets to her feet (carefully) and flings her arms tightly around her  _ ori’vod. _ Squeezes her arms, as though she could convey everything she’s feeling through osmosis.  _ I missed you. _

“I missed you too,  _ vod’ika,” _ Elle says, and  _ kriff _ she’d forgotten how much she enjoys how her sister  _ understands _ her so well. “Come on, let’s sit down. I’m  _ tired.” _

_ I can tell. _ Ca’tra smiles, pulls back and sits back down on her bunk, draws her legs up underneath her. Elle’s eyes flicker from the bandages on her fingers to the piece of rope to the datapad, and there’s a question there. Ca’tra shrugs a little.  _ I tie knots. It helps. _ She picks up her rope, twists it into a simple knot, one of the first ones Elle had ever taught her, shrugs again.

Elle nods. “Gives you something to do. I get it.”

Ca’tra nods, sets the rope aside, looks at her sister and tilts her head to one side, frowns a little, raises an eyebrow.  _ Are you okay, ori’vod? _

“Don’t worry about me,” Elle says gently, sits down on the edge of the bunk.  _ “Ni jate, vod. _ You just focus on getting better.”

Ca’tra rolls her eyes, not believing her sister at all.  _ I am focusing on myself, _ she thinks, gives Elle a Look.  _ You need to take your own advice. _

Elle huffs a little. “Yeah, I know you don’t believe me,  _ tra’ika. _ But I  _ can _ take care of myself.”

Doubtful. Elle probably hasn’t even taken the time to see if she’s injured or not. But whatever, Elle is the older sister, Elle can deal with the consequences of ignoring a wound. Ca’tra  _ wants _ to tell her  _ ori’vod _ about Kix, about how the medic moves careful and slow around her and gives her space and  _ listens _ to her, how he’s taken to calling her  _ mirdala; _ she wants to talk about Hero With No Fear and Ahsoka and Miik, who comes by every day to talk to her and learn another knot and show off the wooden figures a trooper named Akaan is carving for him. But she doesn’t know how to show all that, and though she tries the words don’t come, so she just sits and smiles and soaks in her sister’s presence.

For the first time since she was ten years old, she can just  _ be _ with her  _ ori’vod _ without having to worry about Dooku hovering.

It’s amazing.

~~~

Kix is cleaning up after a surgery, scrubbing his hands clean and filling a cup with water and swallowing a few long sips of it. Things have been calmer the past few days, because Kenobi and Skywalker both insisted that their battalions be given at  _ least _ three-week leave. That’s a luxury, for them - they’d barely gotten that much, and Kix thinks they only did because their battalions had lost nearly half of their members and they needed new recruits.

He suddenly feels a surge of thrilled, comfortable warmth from the back corner of his mind that he has discovered is more or less Ca’tra’s corner in his head now, and drying his hands quickly he hurries over to her bunk, already smiling. It feels good when Ca’tra’s happy, whether that’s because of the Force or the bond or something else.

It’s not hard to understand why very quickly: Elle is back, lounging on the edge of Ca’tra’s bunk (Kix should tell Brii, Brii likes her), talking about their mission.

Ca’tra meets Elle’s eyes  _ easily _ , and it’s almost strange - but Kix is glad.

“Hey, Elle, you’re back,” Kix says, crossing his arms and giving Ca’tra a smile when she looks up at him. She smiles back, soft.

_ Hi Kix _ .

_ Hi _ .

Elle is still in her armor, doesn’t look (or smell, honestly) like she’s been to a ‘fresher yet, and Kix thinks the way she’s sitting might indicate she’s twisted her hip wrong at some point, but he lets that be for the time being. “Yeah, got back real late,” she says, gives him a look like  _ what are you trying to pull _ . Which is weird.

_ She needs to sleep _ , Ca’tra thinks, almost a tinge of amusement in the phrase.

_ They always do _ , Kix says, trying to give her an impression of sighing. The hardest thing to get around here is rest, and it’s what everyone needs most.

“I don’t need a medic,  _ vod’ika _ ,” Elle says sourly, and Kix rolls his eyes dramatically because Elle isn’t looking and Ca’tra is. He gets a small giggle from Ca’tra in response and another suspicious look from Elle.

“Technically,” he sighs, “you  _ do _ , I think you wrenched your hip, right?”

Elle shrugs. Which is a yes.

“I can look at it later, though,” Kix says, because if Elle wants to walk around on a wrenched hip because she’s too stubborn to let him look at such a small thing, then fine. Besides, from what he understands, it’s been long enough since Elle was just able to talk to her sister and Kix doesn’t really want to get in the way of that. Even if he thinks that having Elle around makes Ca’tra happier and he likes seeing that. “You two have a lot of catching up to do and I’m kind of busy.” He’s not. He just doesn’t want to make them feel obligated to let him stay.

~~~

Ca’tra frowns, tilts her head to one side and raises an eyebrow, nudging at Kix’s mind a little.  _ Liar, _ she thinks, not quite sharply, just projects a general displeasure, the impression that lying is really a waste of time when you can see someone’s thoughts. Kix winces a little, and she snorts.  _ Sit down? _

Kix hesitates, looks from her to Elle and back, and then he sighs and lowers himself down to sit on the other side of her. Elle thinks this is funny, Ca’tra notices--she’s smirking wickedly, a sparkle in her eyes and one eyebrow curving up on her forehead. “If she wants you to stay, please do,” Elle says laconically, leans back against the head of the bunk. “Don’t bother asking me,  _ tra’ika.” _

“Little sky?” Kix asks, bemused, and Ca’tra makes a face and punches Elle in the shoulder.

_ Besom. _

Elle raises both eyebrows, sharp. “If you’re calling me something rude I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap.”

Ca’tra gives Elle a  _ who, me? _ look, smirks and raises both eyebrows, gestures at herself and then shrugs.  _ I would never. _ And then she presses her pointer finger to her lips, pointedly, shrugs again.  _ I didn’t say anything, washing my mouth out won’t help. _

Elle  _ glares. _ “Oh, no you don’t,” she grumbles. “I know for a  _ fact _ you know way too many swears and insults.”

Ca’tra snorts, shrugs a little, raises an eyebrow.  _ And whose fault is that? _

Elle splutters a little. “Yes, I  _ know _ you learned them all from me, that’s  _ not the point, _ you know if I ever hear you using any of those you’re  _ dead.” _

_ Well, _ Ca’tra thinks smugly, touches her finger to her lips and smirking again,  _ it’s a good thing  _ **_you_ ** _ won’t hear me, then. _

And she winks at Kix.

Elle is muttering something inaudible that sounds suspiciously like some of those _swears and insults_ she’s not supposed to know, and Ca’tra sticks her tongue out at her _ori’vod,_ because _ha._ _Got you there._

~~~

Ca’tra  _ winks _ at him. Smiling, mischievous, as if she always does this, and it’s very hard not to gape at her. As it is, Kix knows she feels his surprise because she grins a little wider at him. He’s never seen her this lighthearted and… sassy, apparently. She almost reminds him of General Skywalker.

Elle twists and gives Kix a  _ look _ , and Kix doesn’t know her well but he knows people, and he quickly looks away because Elle seems to be coming to conclusions he wishes she wouldn’t. There’s a brief pause, then Elle starts talking again, more or less rambling about the mission, blowing up droids, a brief, careless explanation of how she hurt herself. Kix catches Ca’tra feeling almost  _ wistful _ , and melancholy - he realizes she wishes she could have been there.

_ Why do I have patients like you? _ he thinks, pushing that impression at her.  _ You’re still healing, Ca’tra, why would you want to go blow up droids? _

Her answer is more a stray thought than an intentional answer:  _ It’s all I know how to do _ .

And  _ kriff _ does Kix know what that’s like.

He feels a little frustration from Ca’tra, and she tries to modify the thought, but Kix just picks up a tired feeling.

_ You’ll find other things, _ he says.  _ If you want to. I could help. _

~~~

Ca’tra tilts her head to one side, considering.  _ I’d like that, _ she thinks finally, although she’s really not sure what other things there are. All she’s ever been good at is fighting, and being quiet. She’s not even good at  _ the Force, _ not really, even though she thinks she’s probably better than, than Dooku at lightsaber combat. But the Force is cold and angry and chaos, and she doesn’t  _ like that, _ and kriff Kix can hear all that.

Oops.

Kix threads a bit of the Light through her thoughts, reminds her  _ not all the Force is like that, _ which she  _ knows, _ but that’s not very helpful if the only kind of Force she knows how to reach is the Dark.  _ I can teach you, _ he offers, hesitantly.

She stops listening to Elle altogether, frowns at Kix a bit.  _ Really? _

He nods, though he doesn’t quite meet her eyes, twists his hands into the blanket a little like he’s nervous.  _ If you wanted. Yes. Though I’m not the most-- _

She cuts him off with a brilliant smile.  _ Please, I’d love it! Thank you, Kix, _ and she has no idea where the courage comes from, but she scoots over on the bed (Elle stops talking with a sigh and a roll of her eyes) and throws her arms around him, leans her head on his shoulder and smiles. 

~~~

_ What. The. Kriff. _ Kix freezes like he's been put in carbonite, very hesitantly curling one arm around her waist, afraid if he does more he’ll spook her. His face is hot and he’s afraid to move, afraid she’ll let go, and she’s not really very small but she still feels like she fits neatly against his chest and there’s such happiness in her corner of his mind. And he shouldn’t  _ think _ like that but he tightens his arm around her anyway. Looks over her shoulder and sees Elle giving him an indecipherable look, brow furrowed, and he can’t tell what she thinks, which is sort of unusual.

Then suddenly Ca’tra pulls back, so fast he barely manages to let go, and pulls her arms in around her stomach, shrinks, and Kix almost regrets it and starts apologizing except she beats him to it. He feels embarrassment and anxiety and she says, fast,  _ I’m sorry, Kix, sorry. _

She looks shaky but Kix is intensely relieved to find there isn’t so much fear of him there as he’d thought there would be.  _ No, it’s okay, you’re fine, _ he says, keeps the thoughts very clinical. Very professional. She’s too sensitive for him to go clouding things with what he does or doesn’t want - particularly with vulnerable things like this.

(The fact still remains that his stomach has dissolved into tumbling Loth kittens and he feels strangely excited. Because she’s so happy, he’s sure, and because she’s doing better.)

Her hair is slipping into her face again and kriff the instinct that makes him want to tuck the loose strands back behind her ear, and kriff his stupid light chest, and kriff her for being  _ adorable _ .

And kriff the Force, which is  _ laughing at him _ , not even an impression anymore, just its older-than-the-sky voice chuckling in his ear like it thinks it’s funny.

~~~

Ca’tra flushes, looks carefully down again, swallows. She  _ really _ hadn’t meant to do that, really, she’d just… not been thinking. She twists her fingers together, swallows again, thinks,  _ I didn’t mean to… do anything, _ to Kix, careful, darts a quick glance up at him through her hair. Which is  _ annoyingly _ back in her face. She tosses her head a little and blows at the strands, making an irritated face when the hair flips back, only to settle right back in her eyes again--but she doesn’t quite want to untwist her fingers enough to tuck it behind her ear.

Kix is sort of… not exactly  _ smiling _ at her, but there’s a soft lightness to his face and amused fondness in his thoughts and his eyes are warm and bright and something about that makes her feel oddly  _ shy. Here, _ he thinks suddenly, shifts a bit to lean forward and reach out one hand.  _ Do you want me to get that for you? _

She ducks her head a little, thinks  _ yes, please, _ holds herself carefully still as he ever-so-gently tucks the irritating, rogue strands of hair behind her ear, smoothes his hand lightly down to make sure her hair is lying flat (she thinks. But it doesn’t feel at all like when Dooku had done anything like that, so it’s okay, it actually feels  _ nice, _ she thinks), darts a hesitant half-smile at him in thanks. She untwists her fingers and picks up her rope, starts tying it again, looks over at Elle--her  _ ori’vod _ has a strange look on her face, one Ca’tra hasn’t ever seen before.

“You,” Elle says suddenly, stabbing one finger aggressively at Kix. “With me,” and she hooks the finger. Stands,  _ glares _ a little, almost  _ daring _ Kix to refuse, points at a corner of the medbay. “Now, doctor boy.”

~~~

Kix does not like or trust Elle’s tone or face, nor is he particularly pleased at how she’s walking like her hip isn’t kriffed up. Ca’tra feels confused and a little worried, which makes sense. Kix is also personally concerned that Elle is going to try to kill him. Although most of this is not his fault. Maybe he shouldn’t have tucked her hair behind her ear, that might have been pushing it, but Ca’tra didn’t mind and Elle wasn’t doing it, so…

Elle points to the floor, a clear signal for “stand there,” so he does. Accidentally almost falls into parade rest except he doesn’t because this is still his medbay, his rules. He crosses his arms and doesn’t fidget.

“Okay,  _ verd _ , what the  _ kriff _ ,” Elle says. Which is fair enough.

Kix nods in the way that he’s found calms people down, that says  _ I’m listening, I hear you _ . “Can you be more specific?”

“Kriff you,” she says, and that doesn’t help, but he’s sure she’ll tell him, she’s looking pissed. “You better karking ask for permission before you pull shit like that with my  _ vod’ika _ .”

Kix cringes a little. That is also fair, it’s just… he did ask. But if he says that he has to explain the bond and he doesn’t think Elle’s going to like that much. He sighs and stumbles through an explanation anyway, tries (and almost succeeds) to be very clinical about it. As he’d expected, Elle doesn’t look much happier with him, but she also isn’t  _ angrier _ so that’s better than he anticipated. “I’m being as careful as I can,” he says, earnestly. “I know this is all… delicate, Elle, so I’m doing the best I can with this.”

She makes a soft scoffing noise, but looks a little appeased, so that’s good. “Then fine,” she says, short. “But if you kriffing hurt her, Kix, I’m gonna kill you slowly. I’ll get Jak to help. Are we clear on that?”

Kix blinks. He’s clear, definitely understands what she’s saying. He’s a little more confused about  _ why _ . The bond, probably, except he remembers Anakin saying things like this to Rex. Multiple times. About Ahsoka, which Kix had thought was unnecessary. Then Fives had done the same thing to Ahsoka, about Rex, which Kix still didn’t really  _ get _ . Fives’ explanation had not helped.

Still, he’s suddenly feeling pretty uncomfortable.

~~~

Elle  _ sighs, _ rolls her eyes, runs one hand through her short-chopped black hair. Doctor boy  _ clearly _ doesn’t get it, probably doesn’t even understand why she’s telling him this, so apparently she’s gonna have to explain. Wonderful. “Hurting her includes pretending you don’t have feelings,” she adds, glares a bit more. Like, seriously, kid.

Kix’s entire posture  _ shifts, _ turns defensive in a moment, and he snaps, “I  _ don’t!” _ She raises her eyebrow, thoroughly disbelieving, and he adds, “I’m not going to do  _ anything _ that could kriff her up while she’s healing.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Elle mutters. “Which is why I’m concerned.” Because if he decides that ignoring or denying his emotions (she’s been around  _ jetiise _ enough lately to know that’s a trend) is the best way to, quote,  _ not kriff her up, _ he’s gonna end up hurting her  _ vod’ika _ more. “Look, Kix, she  _ obviously _ likes you or she wouldn’t initiate any kind of physical contact, much less let you touch her  _ hair, _ alright? I saw some of the shit Dooku did, stroked her hair like a creepy old guy and shit, it was awful,” and she shudders a little. “So be careful, but don’t be a karking  _ jetii _ about this, okay?”

Kix blinks, says, “I still don’t have--feelings.”

She snorts derisively. “And I’m  _ dar’manda,” _ she says with a sharp, barking laugh. “Kid, I’m not  _ stupid _ or blind or something, I can  _ see _ how you look at her. You’re hopeless. So kriffing… be careful, sure, yeah, but don’t be  _ too careful. _ Clear?”

“Crystal,” Kix mutters, though she doesn’t think he totally gets it. Whatever, good enough. At least he’s sensible enough to be afraid of the combined might of her and Jak both, no matter if he can use the Force or not.

“Good,” she says. “You can go back to the bunk now.” And she leaves him, goes to walk back over herself, sits back down. Ca’tra raises an eyebrow, frowns, looks concerned, and Elle smiles. “Don’t worry,  _ tra’ika, _ it’s nothing. Turn around, would you?”

Ca’tra nods, shifts so she’s sitting with her back to Elle, facing the foot of the bed, and Elle runs her fingers carefully through the long black hair and gently starts to plait it back.

~~~

Kix has to lock up the whole conversation with Elle and the ensuing confusion into a box as if he were about to do a surgery, because he doesn't think he's good enough at shielding to hide all of that from Ca’tra. He goes back to her bunk, half-expecting Elle to shoo him away, but when she doesn't he just pulls up a chair and takes his medpac off his belt to go through its contents, reorganize and take stock.

Ca’tra presses at his mind a little.  _ Is everything okay? Was she mad at you? _

_ Yeah, we're good, mirdala. She wasn't mad _ . Not exactly, anyway. Kix feels kriffing out of his depth. Why do people keep insisting he has feelings of… of that nature toward Ca’tra? She's a patient and she needs him to help her, there's no space for error here. But Elle says he could hurt her by not admitting he has feelings, so what the kriff?

He shakes his head and shoves all that in the box, shuts it down until later.

Elle finishes braiding Ca’tra’s hair and reaches into her utility belt, pulls out a green ribbon and twists it neatly around Ca’tra’s hair. Ca'tra looks nice with her hair out of her face, looks more awake, and Kix notices some flecks of green in her eyes that he hasn't before; they match her new hair ribbon.

“There you go,  _ tra’ika _ ,” Elle says, and Ca'tra makes a face but she feels pleased.

_ Tra’ika is a good nickname, _ Kix says.  _ It's sweet. _ It had almost seemed like Ca'tra was embarrassed of it before since she called her sister a  _ besom _ over it.

~~~

Ca’tra grimaces, shrugs a little.  _ It’s childish. _ Although, she thinks she  _ does _ like hearing it again.

But she tries to hide that, a little. She has to keep up  _ appearances, _ after all.

_ I still think it’s sweet, _ Kix says, and she rolls her eyes at him, because  _ of course _ he does.

_ Fine, _ she thinks. Rolls her eyes again.  _ Can you make Elle sleep? She needs to sleep. And take a shower. _ Not necessarily in that order.

Kix grins a little. “Hey, Elle, have you slept since you got back?”

Elle shakes her head.  _ “Nayc, _ and I’m not gonna until I take a shower.”

Ca’tra wrinkles her nose and pointedly holds her breath for a moment. 

And Elle laughs. “Is that your not-so-subtle way of telling me I stink?” Ca’tra nods, and Elle rolls her eyes. “Here I was trying to come see my  _ vod’ika _ and make sure she’s okay before I do  _ anything else, _ and I get told off because I haven’t taken a  _ shower!” _ She  _ hmphs, _ crosses her arms, but stands. “Alright, alright, I get the point. I’m going.”

Ca’tra smiles. She’s  _ missed _ her  _ ori’vod. _

~~~

Elle leaves, although not without another sharp look at Kix, and he finds himself alone with Ca’tra and his unruly thoughts. Not a bad thing, exactly, just a tricky one. Kix puts a roll of bandages away in his medpac, notes to himself that he needs a new supply of bacta patches and a lot more pain meds before putting what's left of those back too. It helps the anxiety nagging in the back of his mind, every motion precise and familiar, because he does this after every battle, after every tough day of surgeries and new patients.

_ You're glad she's back _ , he observes.

_ Yeah _ , Ca’tra thinks, and Kix thinks it isn’t right that Dooku had kept two  _ vode _ apart for so long - none of it is right, but it strikes him that this was especially cruel.

_ I’m glad too, _ he says, sincerely.  _ It’s good to… good to see you smiling more _ .

Ca’tra flushes a little, nods and smiles a little. She ducks her head, but her hair is twisted back now so he can still see her eyes, and Kix puts everything back in his medpac, sets it to one side. His chrono says it’s almost ten hundred hours and he wants breakfast and some caf, and a very loud and surprising growl from Ca’tra’s stomach says she’s hungry too. He chuckles, standing and stretching.

“Hungry?”

Ca’tra makes a face at him, wrinkling her nose and rolling her eyes.  _ A little _ .

“Me too. I’ll go get us some breakfast - do you think Elle will want anything?”

Ca’tra shrugs.  _ Caf, maybe. She always drank a lot of it. _ There’s a sense of uncertainty, of not knowing anymore, and Kix nods.

“I’ll get her some.”

_ Thanks _ , she says, thoughts light, and Kix grins and picks up his medpac, and leaves to get his much-needed caf and toast.

…

Ca’tra feels them coming before he does - Kix is trying to teach her how to meditate, has been, and it’s not easy for her but she’s good at feeling the flow of the Force. He thinks it’s because she has more need to pay close attention to her surroundings than he does, and the Force is just one more way to do that.

_ People want to talk to me _ , she says, anxiously, and Kix is confused for a second before he turns to look and feels a thread of their intentions. It’s three of the Jedi Temple guard and a tall boy with curly hair and a tired face. Kix stands up off Ca’tra’s bunk, projects some comfort to her because she feels intensely apprehensive.

The boy has a saber on his belt, although no padawan braid, and his signature feels familiar to Kix for some reason. He steps up in front of the guards, glances at Ca’tra but he’s mostly focused on Kix and seems nervous. Kix crosses his arms, waits for him to speak, and the boy seems more hesitant. “I have a message,” he says. “From the Jedi Council. They want to meet with her,” he says, pointing at Ca’tra a little sheepishly, and Kix would guess the boy has either forgotten her name or wasn’t told what it was.

Ca’tra doesn’t respond well to that, drawing her hands in toward her stomach, her shoulders hunching forward, and Kix projects calm. “Do they need her  _ now _ ?” he asks, frowning. He doesn’t think Ca’tra is ready to face the entire Jedi Council - and from what little Kix knows about them, he doesn’t really think they’re asking to see her so they can congratulate her for being rescued from Dooku. Sometimes he thinks he’d like to have a few words alone with the Council about… a few things.

The boy doesn’t seem to want to look him in the eye. “Yeah,” he says, almost  _ gruffly _ . “I’m not supposed to come back without her.” Kix frowns. The Force hums with a current of  _ anger _ , and loss, and  _ kriff _ it feels so familiar.

~~~

Ca’tra doesn’t understand why the Jedi Council wants to see her, but she doesn’t trust these  _ soldiers, _ doesn’t trust the  _ jetii adiik _ who’s summoning her. The clones aren’t wearing blue or orange, meaning they aren’t  _ safe, _ and she shrinks back a little, surreptitiously slips her hand under her pillow, where her lightsaber is, tightens her fingers around it.

She doesn’t  _ trust them. _

“Alright,” Kix says carefully, frowning, and Ca’tra shoots him a  _ look. _ How can he  _ say that? _ She  _ won’t go, _ she can’t, she doesn’t trust them and they’re  _ soldiers _ and--and  _ breathe, _ Kix hums quietly,  _ I’m not letting you go alone, mirdala. _ “But you’ll want to let me escort her,” and there’s just the  _ tiniest _ thread of the Force in his voice, she can  _ feel _ it, not enough for a null to notice it, just enough to sway the clones a little bit.

The guards nod, easily, relaxed, but the small  _ jetii _ frowns. He is  _ angry. _ Too angry for a  _ jetii, _ Ca’tra thinks, angry and scared (of what?) and  _ sad, _ and  _ pained, _ and she can feel the Dark humming like a swarm of bees around his Force-signature. She frowns a little, projects this impression at Kix.

_ I know, _ he responds.  _ I can feel it, _ and there’s some sort of frustration there that she doesn’t understand. “Come on, Ca’tra,” he adds aloud, standing and swiping his blasters from--somewhere, tucking them in his holsters. “We shouldn’t keep the Council waiting.”

She does  _ not want to. _ But he’s right, because she has to go, the soldiers will make her, and it’s better to go  _ now _ and be allowed to walk than to be in binders and drug. So she pulls her ‘saber out from under her pillow and goes to hook it to her belt.

One of the clones steps forward, extends a hand. “Sorry, but we’ll have to take that from you. Council’s orders. You aren’t allowed weapons.”

Ca’tra shrinks back, hides her ‘saber against her chest and shakes her head _hard. I’m not going without it, it’s mine, you can’t have it._ She’d _made this,_ made the casing from _beskar_ she’d managed to get from Elle once, made it with her own crystal, it’s _hers_ and not Dooku’s, the only thing she can say that of, and they _can’t have it._ _No._

“You can’t keep it,” the small  _ jetii _ with the angry aura says, extends his hand and crooks his fingers a little, and the Force responds and she  _ feels _ him try to take the ‘saber from her hands and  **_no!_ **

She doesn’t  _ mean to, _ she really doesn’t, but she blinks and chokes and suddenly the small  _ jetii _ and the soldiers are on the floor a few meters away; Ca’tra shudders and presses against the wall, curls up small around her ‘saber and hides her face. Her shoulders are shaking and she’s clutching her ‘saber hilt so tightly she feels the sharp edges cutting into her skin but she  _ can’t let go. _ Can’t breathe. No. No, no,  _ no. _

~~~

Kix doesn't bother about the Jedi boy or his  _ vode _ for the moment; Ca’tra is more afraid than any of them, and he takes a few quick but careful steps toward her, crouches by the side of her bunk.  _ Easy, mirdala. _

She wraps tight around his mind, jolts away from the wall and flings her arms around his neck and shoulders, trembling. Kix fits one arm around her back, humming a little. She's apologizing, panicked and fast,  _ I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, it was just an accident, Kix, I'm so so sorry. _

_ Okay, okay. You're okay, Ca’tra, look _ . The boy and the troopers are on their feet again, but weapons aren't out, which Kix thinks is mostly because Ca’tra doesn't look anything nearing dangerous right now.  _ They're not going to hurt you, okay? I wouldn't let them. _

She doesn't feel like she really believes that, and he's not sure he would either, so he soothes his hand firm over her shoulder automatically.  _ Do you trust me, mirdala? _

He thinks he knows the answer to that, but it's still a relief when she hesitates and then nods.  _ Yes, I- I'm sorry, Kix. _

_ No, don't, you're okay. _ He waits a moment, lets her calm down.

Feels more anger and anxiety from the boy, and, carefully, he pulls away from Ca’tra and straightens, although he fits a hand over her fingers around her saber to nudge her to stop holding it so kriffing tight.

“Kid,” he says, very calmly, glaring. “What the  _ kriff _ were you thinking?”

The boy visibly stiffens, scowling. “She can't bring that with her,” he says, more defensive than confrontational, and Kix narrows his eyes.  _ Force, _ he feels like… what? The Force hums, like  _ keep looking _ .

“Fine. But what made you think that was a good idea?”

The kid shrugs, still frowning at him, and Kix sighs heavily and shakes his head, turning back to Ca’tra.  _ Can I take the saber for you? _ he says, very carefully.  _ They don't have to touch it, but I think it's best if you listen to the Council. _ He doesn't want to ask that, projects apology, but he needs to make this work.

~~~

Ca’tra nods hesitantly, slowly extends the ‘saber towards Kix in a trembling hand. She doesn’t  _ want _ to let go of it, but she forces her hand to unclench, forces herself to allow Kix to take the casing and hook it on his own belt (a part of her notes it’s within easy reach of a Force-pull, if she  _ needs _ it). He holds out a hand, and she takes it, allows him to help her to her feet, though she shifts nervously and looks down at her feet.

Her  _ bare _ feet.

She looks up at Kix, questioningly, even though the small  _ jetii _ and the guards want to  _ go, _ because the durasteel floor is cold beneath her feet and she doesn’t know where she’s going and she doesn’t think she should be barefoot.  _ Kix, I don’t have any shoes. _

_ What do you mean, you don’t have shoes? _ Kix asks, frowns down at her, and she half-shrugs, looks away self-consciously.

_ My boots got ruined on Mustafar and nobody got me another pair, _ and she darts a worried glance up at him.

Kix feels  _ annoyed _ by that, frustrated, though she thinks the emotions are directed more at himself than anything else.  _ As soon as we’re done with the Council, we’ll get you some boots, okay? _ he offers, and she nods.

That still means she has to see the  _ Jedi Council _ without shoes, but… at least she’ll get a new pair soon. Which is nice. She hasn’t gotten new boots in a while, since her feet stopped growing--Dooku never seemed to think about it. She tightens her fingers around Kix’s hand, lets the contact be an anchor point to keep her calm, keep her from panicking as the soldiers surround her.

The small  _ jetii _ frowns, feels  _ impatient _ and  _ stressed _ and still so angry and hurting, and she wants to say something to him but the words stick in her throat. Even though she  _ tries, _ tries hard, because she’s  _ safer _ now and they’ll listen and she won’t get punished for speaking, but it’s so much  _ effort _ and it’s so  _ hard  _ and she  _ can’t do it. _ She huffs a frustrated little sigh, tucks herself into Kix’s side and doesn’t relax her grip on his hand.

_ You’re okay, mirdala, _ he hums in her mind, and she  _ knows _ that (well, she thinks she knows it, she trusts Kix at least and he keeps saying it), but she doesn’t like how there are soldiers  _ behind her _ and she isn’t allowed to have her lightsaber, isn’t allowed to have  _ anything, _ no weapons, nothing. And she’s not a true  _ mando’ade, _ she never learned enough, she was too  _ young _ when Dooku took her, she never even painted one set of armor, her body isn’t the kind of weapon Elle’s is.  _ I won’t let anyone hurt you. _

_ I know, _ she thinks, but she still presses a little closer to him, both mentally and physically.

The walk to the Council chamber is… stilted, uncomfortable, and Ca’tra doesn’t dare to look up from the tops of her (bare) feet, can’t appreciate the Temple because she’s too  _ wary, _ too anxious. This doesn’t feel good.  _ Kix, I don’t want to, _ she tells him, lifts her eyes up to his pleadingly.  _ I don’t want to do this. _

Kix projects Light warm and soft through her thoughts, a breath of calm, says  _ I know, Ca’tra. I’ll make sure they go easy on you, okay? _

_ Okay, _ she thinks, trusting him. He will. If he says he’s going to do it, he will.  _ Okay… _

~~~

The long hall leading up to the Council chambers is, Kix thinks, a bit much. He’s sure it’s intentional, supposed to be very solemn and meditative and all those things, but it’s so  _ dramatic _ and would be intimidating. If he wasn’t kriffing  _ pissed _ .

The Council has a nasty habit of sticking its nose exactly where it isn’t wanted, disturbing his patients with questions and missions, and his opinion of them has not improved on further acquaintance.

It doesn’t help that he can feel Ca’tra is petrified and the Jedi boy is… is also scared, he realizes, and Kix grabs onto the Force, listens hard to the boy’s signature, his emotions, and the Force gives him an impression like someone nodding, and  _ there _ . There’s pain there, sharp, and Kix recognizes that from a day that was nearly nothing  _ but _ pain, the screaming in the Force that was a padawan losing his Master. He sighs, frowns, pulls back a little.

_ Him? _ he asks the Force, although he knows the answer.

_ He is hurting _ , says the Force, not as though it’s good or bad, just an observation. Clinical, like a diagnosis.

Kix keeps that revelation to himself till he knows what to do with it, focuses on Ca’tra against his side because she’s so frightened, and the guards at the chamber entrance open the doors with waved hands, slow and so kriffing  _ formal _ and Kix can feel it’s making everyone more tense, anxious enough that the Light that’s so pervasive in the Temple feels difficult to reach.

_ We’re okay _ , he tells Ca’tra, tries not to be nervous himself. He’s never been here, never seen the Council, and does not trust them - and they don’t know he’s Force-sensitive, and part of him remembers  _ they’ll call you all traitors _ . It was a lie, but still.

He tightens his hand around Ca’tra’s and strides through the doors without hesitating. He finds that makes things easier.

The first person Kix focuses on is Kenobi, which makes it easier: the General looks tired and concerned, and he offers Kix a small smile, which helps him not be so daunted by the less-than-friendly looks on the rest of the Council members’ faces.

The boy walks into the middle of the seated Councillors, hands twisted in front of him. “I got her, Masters,” he says.

Kenobi smiles a little more, inclines his head. “Thank you, Caleb-” His eyes dart to Kix and Ca’tra again, and he frowns. “Although perhaps it would be wise for us to postpone this conversation for another day?”

Kix thinks Kenobi might be asking his opinion - whether that’s the case or not, he decides to offer it. He’s a kriffing medic, they have to listen. (And sure, he’s transitioning Ca’tra out of the medbay, but she’s still a patient for now, so he gets a say.) “That might be better, sir,” he says, and there’s a wash of relief and gratitude from Ca’tra, who’s staring at the floor, pressed so tightly into his side the edges of his armor must be digging into her shoulder. “She’s still recovering and-” a small lie won’t hurt anything, “-she didn’t get much sleep last night.”

~~~

Ca’tra doesn’t dare pick her eyes off the floor, off her feet, even when Kix speaks up in defense of her (yes,  _ please, _ she doesn’t want to do this now). She thinks the  _ jetii _ who’s speaking (Master Kenobi, she recognizes his voice) is a… friendly one, maybe even sorta-safe, but she doesn’t  _ know _ about the rest of them and she’s  _ scared. _

“Be that as it may,” another voice says, “the entire Council has convened today, and we  _ all _ have other things to be doing. And the fact that we have a Sith, whether half-trained or no, in our midst is… troubling.”

“That is certainly true, Master Windu,” Master Kenobi says genially, “but we must be sure to keep the health of  _ everyone _ under consideration,” and his voice turns wry, “half-trained Sith or no.”

But the Force feels like most of the  _ jetiise _ agree with… with the one called Master Windu (Mace Windu, she thinks, Dooku had told her about him once), and Master Yoda  _ (everyone _ knows who he is) speaks. “Some questions we have for you, young one,” he says, and Ca’tra shakes her head a little, wishes her hair was down so she could hide behind it. “If willing to answer you are, more lenient we can be.”

Lenient?  _ I don’t understand, _ she thinks to Kix, half-pleading.  _ What do they want? _

Kix sends a mental impression, something like  _ I wish I didn’t know, _ and she grimaces because that can’t be good.

There’s a moment of silence, almost like the Council is waiting for something--she doesn’t look up, doesn’t move, except to clutch tighter at Kix’s hand. “It’s  _ generally _ considered polite to at least  _ acknowledge _ when someone’s speaking to you, child,” another  _ jetii _ snaps, and she flinches against her will.

Nods a little, because that’s the closest thing to an  _ acknowledgement _ she can give.

“Tell us, you will, why Dooku you chose as a teacher,” Master Yoda asks, and she recoils.

_ Chose? I didn’t choose anything, _ she wants to snap,  _ I never chose this, I would’ve rather  _ **_died_ ** _ but I didn’t even get that choice! _ Kix sends calm warmth (and there’s an undercurrent of protective anger in the back of his thoughts), and she hears another one of the  _ jetiise, _ Master Windu again, make some sort of disbelieving noise in the back of his throat.

“Answer the  _ question,” _ the angry  _ jetii _ says, and she flinches, shakes her head. She doesn’t know  _ how. _ She  _ can’t. _

“She doesn’t--” Kix tries, but the same  _ jetii _ doesn’t let him finish.

“I don’t  _ have time _ for excuses, trooper!”

“Do you have time for  _ facts?” _ Kix growls, that same protective anger hissing out with his voice. “She doesn’t talk.” The angry  _ jetii _ grumbles something like he doesn’t agree, but Master Windu sighs through his nose (and she dares to look up at him and sees he’s steepling his fingers together against his nose, an  _ exhausted _ irritation plain on his face).

“She does to you, however,” the  _ jetii _ says, not a question, a statement of fact. “Because you are, apparently, not only a sensitive, but you’ve also somehow managed to bond with her.  _ Honestly, _ what is it with your battalion and  _ Force bonds?” _

~~~

Kix just manages not to curl his lip in a sneer at General Windu because he's got a little more control than that. Not much. “I don't know, sir,” he says. Manages not to flinch at his oldest secret laid bare in front of the entire Jedi Council. “Things just happen.”

General Windu shakes his head, like he's not even surprised, and waves one hand a little. “You'll need to help us understand, then, trooper, if she isn't going to speak.”

“She is perfectly capable of speaking for  _ herself _ ,” General Tiin snaps, and Kix clenches one hand into a tight fist, anger rising in the back of his throat. “She is an insolent child, you can't seriously-”

Before Kix can tell the general exactly  _ where _ he can shove  _ that  _ kriffing idea, Kenobi interrupts the other Jedi, very, very smooth. “Master Tiin, my friend,” he says, and Kix wants to smile because Kenobi’s voice has a bite to it. “It would be wise of you, and greatly to everyone’s benefit, including your own, if you would refrain from saying any more impressively ignorant things for a while. Some of us had hoped to  _ accomplish _ something here today and I'm afraid you're making that difficult.”

Kix smirks at the deeply affronted look on General Tiin’s face. Ca’tra feels tentatively pleased, and he sees her shift a little, peek up at Kenobi and the other Jedi like she's trying to decide if it's safe. In her corner of his mind, Kix still mostly feels anxiety.

“Please,” General Windu says wearily. “If we could focus. Will you speak for her, trooper?”

And of course Kix doesn't have an option, just nods determinedly. “Yeah,” he says.  _ If that's okay? _ he thinks to Ca’tra, and she sends agreement. Feels relieved, a bit.

“And we wanted to know why you chose to apprentice yourself to Dooku,” General Windu says, and Kix crosses his arms.

“She didn't. Count Dooku took her from her  _ aliit _ \- sorry, family, and ‘trained' her,” he says grimly. “She didn't want any of it.” It doesn't feel good to say, but Kenobi gives him a small nod, and Kix is so  _ kriffing glad _ he's there.

~~~

Ca’tra looks up at Master Kenobi, doesn’t meet his eyes, but looks for long enough to see him nod. He  _ agrees. _ Okay, okay, that’s good. She thinks maybe she might like him. He’s still not  _ safe, _ not like Kix and Elle and the little one, Miik, but he’s… not dangerous.  _ I was ten, _ she thinks quietly, looks down again, feels Kix tense a bit.

“She was ten when he took her,” he adds, his voice low, barely audible, and she squeezes his hand a little, doesn’t move away from his side (where she’s safe).

There’s a moment of silence while the  _ jetiise _ digest that, and then another voice speaks--Ca’tra looks up and sees the voice belongs to a female Tholothian, who looks incredibly  _ upset. _ “Excuse me--this is a bit off-topic, perhaps, but where the  _ kriff _ are your shoes, child?”

Ca’tra flushes and looks down again, shifts a bit closer to Kix, lets the medic answer for her. “She doesn’t have any,” he says wearily, projects calm reassurance. “They were ruined on Mustafar.”

“And no one has thought to replace them?”

“It appears not, Master Gallia,” Master Windu says tiredly. “We  _ have _ been a bit busy lately.”

“Too busy to provide the basic  _ necessities _ to a lost young girl?” The  _ jetii, _ Master Gallia, looks  _ safe, _ Ca’tra thinks. Master Gallia shakes her head. “Some Jedi we are,” she murmurs, sorrowful.

_ Can we leave yet? _ Ca’tra asks, and Kix sighs, shakes his head a little.

_ Not yet. Sorry, mirdala. _

The  _ jetiise _ seem to collectively decide to ignore Master Gallia. “Do you have any intentions to act against the Jedi Order?” Master Windu asks.

Ca’tra looks up at Kix, feels his encouragement, thinks,  _ Not unless they try to take my… _ and she projects an impression of  _ safe, family, protection _ at Kix,  _ unless they try to take them away. _

Kix smiles a little. “Only if the Order acts against her,” he says simply, and she nods. That’s a good way to put it.

“It is my hope the Order will be… more  _ educated _ in our actions than that,” Master Kenobi says carefully, a hint of disapproval in his voice.

But it’s not directed at  _ her, _ which is good. Is safer. She thinks of all the  _ jetiise _ in this room, the only two she’d allow to be behind her are Masters Kenobi and Gallia. And possibly Master Yoda, because she’s not sure she  _ could _ keep him in front of her if she tried.

Ca’tra leans into Kix a little more, suddenly feeling  _ tired, _ drained, emotionally  _ exhausted. _ This is all too  _ much, _ and she just wants to go  _ home. _

~~~

“We are not going to be rash or cruel, Master Kenobi,” General Windu says, almost defensively, and Kix tries to keep his doubt at that off of his face. He's never been as good at controlling his expression as some of his brothers - he thinks Cody is carved out of stone, sometimes, and Rex can be almost as tightly contained. Kix never really learned the trick of it.

Windu looks tense and tight, his expression unflinching, but even he has far less control of his expression than some of the  _ vode _ , and Kix can tell he is exhausted. If he were Kix’s General, Kix would have assigned him mandatory bed rest a long time ago.

Kix eases Light into Ca’tra’s thoughts as General Windu sighs and asks another question. “And the Republic, young one - Do you intend to act against the Republic, the GAR, or the Senate?”

Ca’tra shakes her head.  _ Only if they act against me _ , she reiterates.  _ Or my aliit _ .

Kix repeats that, and kriff it's hard to keep his voice neutral. But he does, because it's important.

That's not the unequivocal answer Kix is sure the Council wants, but it seems good enough for most of them - excepting General Tiin, who is scowling but apparently doesn't want to risk drawing more of Kenobi’s ire.

Kenobi sits a little forward, looking displeased (although definitely not at Ca’tra or Kix, he thinks), and asks, much more gently than Windu had been, “Do you intend to continue training in the Dark Side of the Force?” Kix thinks he can feel Kenobi listening to the Force to evaluate Ca’tra’s answer.

**_No,_ ** Ca’tra thinks, shaking her head vehemently, and she shivers a little, although there's an echo of fear and doubt in the back of her mind.

“No, she doesn't, sir,” Kix says. “Actually, I'm…” He hesitates, then thinks  _ kriff it _ although it makes his stomach twist, and says, “I'm trying to teach her how to feel the Light.” He reaches for the Force and its reassurance, for the Light and warmth, and the Force sends an impression like singing.

_ Easy, little one _ .

~~~

Ca’tra swallows a little, breathes deep, and forces herself to straighten, some. To reach for a kind of confidence she doesn’t feel, but if she pretends she’s just talking to Kix and Elle, then it’s easier. A little.  _ Tell them, _ she thinks to Kix,  _ tell them I said they shouldn’t be worrying about me when one of their own is so close to Falling. The Dark is eating the small one alive, Kix. _

Kix grimaces a little.  _ Do I have to? _ he asks, almost petulant, and she  _ almost _ smiles at him.

_ Please? _

He sighs.  _ Fine. _ Looks up at Master Kenobi. “Ca’tra is asking me to tell you that…” and he grimaces again. “You shouldn’t be worrying about her when one of your own is so close to Falling,” he quotes with a ghost of a smile, winces a bit. Master Windu’s eyebrows look like they’re trying to climb off his forehead, and so Ca’tra points at the small one, who Master Kenobi had called  _ Caleb. _ Kix sighs. “Your name is Caleb, right?” he asks, and the small one  _ flinches, _ goes defensive. “You lost your Master--I remember  _ feeling _ it,” and for a moment he goes pale and quiet and Ca’tra projects warmth, reassurance, projects  _ safe. _

Kix feels grateful, holds tight to her projection to bring himself out of a memory of  _ pain _ and  _ screaming, _ and she smiles a tiny bit at him. But not much. She doesn’t trust these  _ jetiise _ enough to relax around them.

…

Caleb closes his eyes (remembers  _ Caleb,  _ **_run!_ ** and  _ screaming _ and the universe shattering around him, remembers  _ I’m sorry for this, Commander, _ and an endless instant of  _ agony, _ a black hole in his head, and then  _ nothing), _ snaps out, “It doesn’t  _ matter,” _ reaches for anger because that’s easier than fear.

(In the back of his mind, he hears,  _ We may be at war, Caleb, but we are still Jedi, and that means we are above pettiness, above childish petulance. A Jedi must always strive to be polite, no matter the circumstance.) _

But Master Billaba is  _ dead, _ she’s dead and he doesn’t  _ care _ about being polite anymore.  _ You’re  _ **_dead!_ ** he shouts at her memory, at her voice,  _ you’re dead and you  _ **_left me_ ** _ and your politeness didn’t keep the clones from killing you, so shut  _ **_up_ ** _ and leave me  _ **_alone!_ **

(He’s not entirely sure he’s imagining the soft, sad,  _ very well.) _

Caleb lifts his chin and glares at the clone, Kix, at the Sith (he doesn’t like  _ either of them, _ except the Sith girl is scared and he remembers clinging to his ‘saber like a lifeline for a week after the Order, refusing to let go of it even in sleep, because it’s the only safe, familiar thing), refuses to look at the Council because he just  _ knows _ he’ll see disapproval on all their faces.

Sure enough: “Taught you better than that, did Master Billaba,” Master Yoda says, and Caleb squashes the very  _ childish, _ immature urge to scowl and stick his tongue out at the old, little green troll. Like he  _ cares. _

Instead, he settles for a half-shrug, a muttered, “Sorry,” that he doesn’t mean. He figures he should at least  _ try _ to seem semi-repentant, so he looks up at the Council again. There’s disapproving glares etched into most of their faces (Master Windu looks like he’s been carved out of the most exhausted, world-weary stone ever), except when Caleb looks at Master Kenobi he doesn’t see disapproval or  _ anything, _ just…  _ understanding. _ Understanding, and compassion, and empathy, and--and Caleb remembers that Master Kenobi’s Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had died fighting Darth Maul.

“It is okay to be angry, Caleb,” Master Kenobi says gently, “but your anger will swallow you whole if you allow it. And,” and he pauses, twists his lips in a wry, almost self-deprecating smile, “when you use anger to hide your  _ fear, _ it is all-too-easy to simply…  _ give in.” _ He looks lost, for a moment, blue eyes unfocused and distant.

Caleb blinks, stares a moment. Doesn’t mean to speak, but he’s never had the best self-control. “But I… don’t know  _ how,” _ he mumbles, looks down, scuffs his feet against the floor. Half of him wishes the floor would swallow him, the other half wants to run to Master Kenobi and cry into his chest (except he is a  _ Jedi, _ and Jedi don’t cry). “How not to be angry.” How not to  _ hurt. _

Master Kenobi sighs a little. “Master Qui-Gon always told me  _ your focus determines your reality,” _ he says, careful. “To ease the grief, I taught myself to focus on the good. As for the anger…” Caleb looks up in time to see Master Kenobi shrug, looking suddenly  _ exhausted. _ “I had to learn to forgive Maul.”

Forgive? Caleb frowns, tilts his head to one side. He doesn’t think he could ever  _ forgive _ the clones who shot down his Master, could forgive Commander Grey and Captain Styles for stunning him and keeping him from  _ helping, _ because maybe he would’ve just died but maybe he could’ve  _ saved her. _

~~~

Kix can feel (and, he thinks, so can Kenobi) that Caleb doesn’t much like what Kenobi’s said - but that’s okay, Kix understands. He squeezes Ca’tra’s hand; she seems relieved that for the moment, the focus hadn’t been on her. Kenobi smiles at Caleb, says, “Perhaps you and I should talk after this.” When the kid nods, he turns back to Kix and Ca’tra, sliding his hands into the sleeves of his robe. “Pardon me, both of you.”

General Windu inclines his head, rubbing his chin. “You can go, Caleb,” he says, nearly  _ gently _ . “Young one,” he says, looking straight at Ca’tra like he hopes to catch her eyes (and Kix feels her anxiety spike a little). “Once the medics decide you can leave the medbay, we will expect you to stay here in the Temple, under watch.” He glances around at the Council like he’s confirming what he’s said with everyone else. Master Tiin growls out a string of curses in another language that Kix doesn’t know, drawing fierce looks from not just Generals Kenobi and Gallia but General Windu. Master Yoda hums a little and nods.

“The right path, I think this is.”

The Force agrees, Kix  _ thinks _ .

“Well, then,” Kenobi says, offers them another calm smile, “you said Ca’tra needed her rest, Kix?”

“Right, sir,” he answers, and at a small nod from General Windu, nudges Ca’tra.  _ Come on, mirdala, we’re okay to go _ .

There’s a surge of relief that knocks some of the tension out of his own shoulders, and he doesn’t bother saying anything to the Council, just walks with her out of the chambers, one of the troopers coming with them as an extra guard (even though Kix would rather he not).

Still, everything’s turned out okay, not as bad as it could have been. Ca’tra feels so much less anxious now that they’re outside the chambers, walking away and back to the safety of the medbay.

He tries not to mind that she’s no longer leaning into his side so much.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so as usual things have run away with us and the scenes grew _really long_ soooo.... yeah. there's gonna be another chapter. we just have to wrap up the end of the last scene, and then there's one more scene to end the fic on.
> 
> heed the updated tags!
> 
> this is a wild ride, from fluffy to sad to fluffy to sad. just a reminder, this will end happy and fluffy. we promise.

It’d only taken Ca’tra a day or two to find the training salle that’s very rarely, if ever, used, which is perfect. Since she’s not entirely sure if she’s  _ supposed _ to have her lightsaber with her.

She really doesn’t want to interact with any of the  _ jetiise, _ unless she  _ has _ to; they don’t understand her very well, and she doesn’t trust them enough to even  _ try _ and speak. She spends most of her time exploring the dusty, dark recesses of the Temple’s lower floors, curious--spends most of the rest of the time she’s awake in the salle she’s named her own on her mental map, training. It’s all she’s ever been good at, fighting, and she needs to  _ practice it. _

Kix has been  _ busy _ the last couple of days. There was another battle against some of the remaining Separatist forces, led by Admiral Trench (or so the rumors circulating the Temple whisper), and apparently the three-week leave has expired, because the 212th, Master Kenobi’s battalion (the orange troops), was sent to help. 

And it was almost a  _ disaster. _

The  _ jetiise _ are saying they won the battle, but they took  _ heavy _ losses; the 212th’s primary medic was severely injured while attempting to evacuate wounded from the front lines, Kix had told her during the single conversation they’ve had since the battalions got back, and Kix’s been recruited to help because he’s Force-sensitive and also one of the best medics in the GAR. Apparently. 

It’s been strange, though, not talking to him much. She’s not sure what to call the… almost  _ emptiness _ hollow and echoing in her chest. She can still  _ feel _ him, in the part of her mind where he always is, but he seems to be permanently  _ exhausted _ and she hasn’t pushed too much because she doesn’t want to distract him. Unfortunately, that means it’s been… two days? She thinks? (she may or may not have forgotten to sleep, last night) since she’s actually even seen another sentient. Oops?

It’s later, she thinks, though her internal clock has been all messed up since she started poking around the dark hallways with only a flashlight for company; she’s not been in the salle very long (at least, she doesn’t  _ think _ she has), but she’s starting to get tired. Probably because she’s not actually sure when the last time she ate or slept was. Really, she needs to be  _ better _ at that, but…

Surely it hasn’t been  _ too much _ more than twenty-four hours?

Ca’tra decides that’s not really  _ important _ right now, and so she pushes it away, focuses on her gold ‘saber blade, on moving fluid and fast and precise through a series of slashes and parries and counterstrikes. Her ‘shadow’, imaginary enemy, blocks everything, launches its own attack, and she defends easily, flows like liquid out of the way. And maybe she  _ is _ tired, because she’s hyperfocusing, she’s not paying much attention to the ambient Force around her--but she’s also not really sure she  _ needs _ to, because no one seems to remember this salle exists and she’s always been alone.

~~~

Kix doesn’t usually have occasion to walk by the salles; he doesn’t really belong there, no troopers do, but today he’s needed to hunt down medicine and equipment that the medbay doesn’t normally have because they don’t normally need it; the 212th is in bad shape, worse than usual. Not as bad as the time General Kenobi had to leave his wounded behind, though.

They’d grieved that for a long time.

Anyway, Kix finally found the things he needed and sent some back to the medbay with Tuck, carried the less vital items himself. He’s walking through an apparently abandoned row of salles when he senses life, movement, and  _ Ca’tra _ . He smiles a little, surprised, and follows the pull of feelings (focus, weariness, determination) to one of the salles, finds it doesn’t have a keypad so he can just slide the door open.

Ca’tra fights like a  _ mando’ad _ , fierce and smooth and so precise, more than most  _ mando’ade _ or clones. She looks more confident here than she had when she fought him, scowling and glaring at something he can’t see, so fierce and fluid and slender and deadly.

He doesn’t think she knows he’s there, and he tells himself that’s why he doesn’t move to greet her, because he doesn’t want to scare her. Not because he’s mesmerized by her gold saber blade and the knifelike grace of her movements.

~~~

It isn’t until after she’s decapitated her shadow enemy, holding herself poised and frozen a moment in the follow-through before straightening and lowering her ‘saber, that Ca’tra realizes there’s a  _ presence _ at the door, a familiar one. She jerks, startling a little, pushes her hair (loose again, because Elle’s… who knows where) out of her face with a little scowl and spins around. Kix is leaning against the doorframe, just watching, and she frowns at him a little, deactivating her ‘saber and hooking it on her belt.  _ How long have you been here? _

Kix shrugs.  _ Not long. You’re good. _

She flushes a little, drops her eyes.  _ How are your patients? _

He winces a little.  _ It’s not as bad as it has been in the past, _ and she catches a fleeting memory of half a battalion or more lost, the wounded left behind,  _ but it’s not good, either. We’re going to lose some of them. _

Ca’tra crosses the space between them, hesitant, looks up and meets his eyes.  _ Are you okay? _ She remembers a memory of  _ guilt, _ thick and choking, losing his brothers and feeling like it was his fault.

He shrugs again, mouth twisting in a wry half-smile.  _ Of course I am, Ca’tra. _ He sounds more bitter and exhausted than  _ okay. _

She hesitates a moment, then cautiously, tentatively slips her arms around his waist and leans her head against his chest. Projects comfort, as best she can, though she’s still not very good at that.  _ You’re a bad liar, _ she thinks at him, and he chuckles a little, one arm wrapping around her back, his other hand coming to rest between her shoulder blades. He’s careful, giving her plenty of space to pull back, but his arms around her don’t feel claustrophobic. They feel like  _ safety. _

He hums a little, cards his fingers through her hair almost absently (and  _ kriff, _ that feels… nice, comforting, and she can’t help leaning into his hand a little).  _ Are  _ **_you_ ** _ okay? _

She sends a vague impression of being tired and possibly forgetting to eat or sleep, which garners the predictable response of irritation and annoyance.  _ It was an accident,  _ she tries, peers up at Kix pleadingly. He gives her a  _ look, _ but she pouts at him and he  _ sighs, _ his face softening.

A stray thought slips through, something about  _ kriff her for being kriffing adorable, _ and she tucks her face back against his chest as quickly as she can (without being too obvious about it) to hide the flush she’s sure is staining her cheeks. 

Her,  _ adorable? _

~~~

Kriff her for being kriffing adorable, Kix thinks, because he should scold her - sleep and food are basics, and she needs them more than most, she can't just  _ forget _ them - but she hides her face in his armor and that's  _ so much cuter _ , kriffing hells. She needs to stop it so he can scold her.

_ I can't have you forgetting that stuff, mirdala, it's not good for you _ . He slides his fingers through her hair again, just a little, because it's soft and he's a little surprised she lets him, still.

_ I don't  _ **_mean_ ** _ to, _ she protests, leans back enough to pout at him. Her cheeks are flushed pink, with… embarrassment, he supposes. She has the most expressive face Kix has ever seen - when you work with Jedi and soldiers, he guesses, you get used to having to work to know what anyone is thinking. It doesn't work like that with Ca’tra.

_ Still, _ he says, keeps his tone light as he says,  _ Can't leave you alone for a few days, apparently, without you forgetting basic human necessities. _

_ I'm fine _ , she grumbles at him.

Of course she is. She's also hungry and tired, Kix can feel it. He shakes his head at her, smiling. He should be more annoyed about this, probably.  _ Haar’chak _ .

~~~

Ca'tra pulls back a little, enough to stab one finger into Kix's chest.  _ When was the last time _ **_you_ ** _ slept? _ she asks, raising an eyebrow, pointedly. Because two can play that game.  _ Or ate? _

Kix just _ looks _ at her, very seriously, though he's having to work to keep from smiling, which doesn't help. “That,” he announces, “is _ not _ the point.”

_ I just made it the point, _ she hums, grins at him. He doesn't seem too pleased with that, but she could care less.  _ You need it too, Kix, and if you're going to scold me I get to scold you. _

_ Since when? _

_ Since, apparently, _ she tells him with a roll of her eyes,  _ your vod'e aren't doing it. I have some food in my room, come on. _

“Actually, I should get this stuff back to the medbay,” he says, and _ oh. _ Oh, no.

_ I'm sorry, _ Ca'tra thinks immediately, pulls back a bit.  _ I didn't realize--I didn't mean to keep you.  _ In her… happiness to see him, she'd forgotten he's still on call, still needed.  _ I'm sorry, Kix. _

~~~

Kix just smiles, eases her a tiny bit closer to him again, shrugs. “You're okay,  _ mirdala _ ,” he says lightly. “I sent all the important stuff with Tuck. I kept myself.” And he should go back to the medbay, because he's eaten already today and they still need these supplies, but maybe he should make sure Ca’tra  _ actually _ eats something - he can't have her forgetting again. Because apparently that's something she forgets.

She still feels guilty, so he sighs a little and pulls entirely back, crosses his arms over his chest. “Come on, let’s go. I want to make sure you  _ actually  _ eat.”

Ca’tra grins, tentatively, and tucks her hair behind her ears, starts for the door of the salle. Kix picks up his pack of supplies where he’d left it by the door and follows her. He knows, of course, where her room is, but not how to get there from here. Hells, he doesn’t even know where “here”  _ is _ .

Not that it matters, because at least it isn’t the medbay with all its swirling pain in the Force that none of his efforts can really mask. He’s holding the Light around himself like armor, these days, but it doesn’t always help. Especially when he loses another patient; he’s more  _ used to that _ than he wishes he was, but it still  _ aches _ .

So it’s better, here in the recesses of the always-Light Temple, with Ca’tra.

~~~

_ I go the back way, _ Ca'tra tells Kix, projects calm and reassurance as best she can, starts for the set of stairs that will bring her to the underground hallway that lets her cross to the other side of the Temple without being seen.  _ So I don't have to see the _ jetiise.

Kix projects understanding, calm, warmth, and she smiles, takes his hand as they start down the stairs (she tells herself, repeatedly, that she does it because it’s dark and she knows the way and he doesn’t and she doesn’t want him to get lost, but the excuse falls flat a little). It  _ is _ dark, though, and so with her free hand she unhooks the small but bright flashlight from her belt and flips it on, running the beam over the walls and floor in front of her.

The walk passes in a companionable silence, and soon enough Ca’tra is turning her flashlight off, leading Kix up the other set of stairs and into the hallway near her room. There are no  _ jetiise _ in the halls--thankfully--and so she’s able to be relaxed, calm.

It’s not until she goes to enter the code on the keypad lock outside her door that she realizes she hasn’t yet let go of Kix’s hand.

~~~

Ca’tra’s room is just a (very nice) bed, a neat desk and two empty shelves. It's plain, but luxurious compared to the barracks or even General Skywalker’s room on the  _ Resolute _ .

Her rope is looped up on the desk like a snake, but there isn't anything else personal in here, really. Letting go of his hand (and he tries not to mind), Ca’tra goes over to the desk and opens a drawer, that same hand fidgeting and twisted in her grey tunic. She pulls out a large piece of bread wrapped in napkins, tears off a smaller piece to hand to him.

“Thanks,” Kix says, takes it although he isn't so hungry. Ca’tra nods, pads over to her bed and sits down, toeing off her soft boots. He eyes her desk chair, but he feels uncomfortable moving her things around so he follows her, sits down at the very edge of the bed (which is ridiculously soft, what the  _ kriff _ is the point of that?).

Ca'tra meets his eyes, raises her eyebrows pointedly, and takes a bite of her bread, thinking,  _ Happy now? _

_ Yes, actually, _ he replies, also eating some of his bread. It's good, and he supposes he's a little hungrier than he thought. It's good Ca’tra is eating, better still she’s smiling at him through her lashes between bites. He rolls his eyes at her a little.  _ You've had water, right? _

_ Yes, _ she tells him.

Well, that at least is good.

~~~

Ca'tra smiles up at Kix, though she can't help rolling her eyes a little, because of kriffing _ course _ she's had water. She's not _ di’kutla. _ She lets that thought slip through to him.

He rolls his eyes, setting his gun belt and gauntlets and gloves down on the floor.  _ I'm going right back to the medbay, _ he tells her in response to her lightly questioning thought,  _ there's no use taking it all off. _

Ca'tra thinks, personally, that making the _ medics _ wear armor is a bit… redundant. But whatever. She pushes her hair out of her eyes again, grumbling--really, she should just teach herself to braid it--and takes another small bite of bread. It's _ good _ bread, better than anything Dooku ever gave her, and she sighs a little.  _ You were gone a long time, _ she thinks at Kix, a bit tiredly.  _  Elle’s been gone, too. I'm not so used to being alone anymore, _ and she shrugs a little, stares down at her bread like it holds the answers to every mystery in the galaxy.

~~~

It’s kind of cute and funny when Ca’tra gets annoyed at her hair being in her face - not that he can relate, really. He tears the rest of his bread in half and eats part, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

_ I’m not so used to being alone anymore _ , she says, and he makes a small noise of understanding in the back of his throat.

_ It will get easier _ , he says. That is always the way with things. Injury happens, and then for a while it’s just managing the pain and putting everything back the way it’s supposed to be, and then it’s waiting until even the phantom pains stop coming. It’s a cycle, like everything else.

He thinks Ca’tra doesn’t understand his confidence, saying that. But except for the worst injured, and some of the hollow-eyed ones, there’s always healing. It’s just  _ time _ . He tries to project that, although since it’s his own experience that’s taught him, he isn’t sure it will help. He hesitates, then says,  _ Until it does get better, you have your sister and- and me. I know I’m busy a lot, but we’ve got this connection now. Might as well use it _ .

She smiles a little, nods, and finishes the last of her bread with a rueful expression; Kix hands her what’s left of his piece. “I ate already,” he says, when she raises her eyebrows. “Because unlike you, I  _ remember _ things like eating that help humans not  _ die _ .”

Ca’tra scowls at him, narrowing her eyes, and swipes irritably at her hair as it slips into her face again. Kix wants to laugh, but he just smirks a little because if he laughs he thinks she’ll be more grumpy at him and possibly scold him which- which wouldn’t be the  _ worst _ , but still, he’s not going to get himself in trouble.  _ You haven’t really been sleeping _ , she accuses, and he grumbles some Huttese he knows from General Skywalker.

“I’m being careful,” he mutters, changes the subject before she can call him on  _ that _ clumsy excuse - “You know, if your hair is bothering you that much, I could- I kind of know how to braid things, I could do it for you.” He keeps his hands in his lap and shifts away just a little, because he knows it’s a sensitive thing to offer to do, for her especially.

~~~

Ca'tra only considers the offer for a minute before she smiles shyly, nods a little.  _ Yes, please, if you don't--mind, _ she thinks carefully.  _ Elle usually does it, but she's the  Mand'alor’s third, so she's kinda in command on Coruscant right now, which means she doesn't have time. _

It's been _ frustrating, _ a bit; the fact that she can be so close to her _ ori'vod _ and still hardly see her (although far more than before). But the war will be over soon, and so then her _ aliit _ will all be safe, and Elle and Kix will both be here.

Ca'tra scoots over on the bunk so Kix can reach her hair, tries not to react too much when he threads his fingers through the strands and starts weaving--but it feels _ nice, _ and she can't help humming a little in pleasure, half-closing her eyes.

She's _ tired _ and it feels good and Kix is _ here _ for once, and maybe that shouldn't be enough to trigger such soft, pure, bright _ happiness, _ but she's lived in lava and ash and emptiness for too long.

~~~

Kix hasn’t really tried braiding hair before.

He is not good at it, apparently.

He’s not  _ terrible _ , it’s just hard, and the strands slip through his fingers when he’s trying to pull them all away from her face, and it’s a little distracting how  _ soft _ her hair is because he’s not exactly  _ familiar _ with hair like hers, long and nice and did he mention soft?

Not the point, really.

The bed is soft too. Kix doesn’t really get that either, even the medbay bunks are never this soft, and he decides it’s kriffing comfortable.

Ca’tra’s breathing has evened out into a slow, easy rhythm, which means she’s relaxed, and when he pays attention to her corner of his mind he just feels  _ happiness _ , comfort, pleasure, and it washes over him in warm waves.

He fumbles with another plait in her hair and eyes his work critically; no, he’s not good at this yet. He thinks Ca’tra picks up on the thought because a wash of amusement eases through the happiness and he grumbles at her, shifts so he’s leaning back against the headboard just a little because he’s kind of tired.

He can’t kriffing keep track of the braiding anymore, what the kriff? He blinks for a second and he almost lets go of all the strands and loses all his progress. He sighs, annoyed, and tries to go back to his self-appointed task except there’s another soft wave of happy amusement from Ca’tra and her hair is silky under his fingers and he blinks again and he might be a little more tired than he thought. He rubs his face with one hand, eyes the braid critically.  _ There _ , he thinks, loses the rest of the sentence. Good enough. He should maybe rest a little, get up and go to his bunk and- and… Kriff it, who cares.

His eyelids are too heavy to keep open so he lets them fall shut, hums a little, and before he really thinks about it he’s drifting.

~~~

Kix falls asleep before he can tie off the braid; his fingers are still tangled in her hair and he's slumped against the headboard. Ca'tra carefully frees her hair, turns to look at him, and she can't help but smile because he looks _ relaxed _ and his thoughts are fuzzy and warm and drowsy against hers. His armor is still mostly on, and she gently fumbles with it, eases off most of his upper body armor, sets it on the floor.

Shifts herself and pulls back the blankets, keeps Kix's mind firmly asleep as she settles him on the bed in a more comfortable position, his head on her spare pillow. And she should probably grab a blanket and her pillow and go lie on the floor, but the bed is _ comfy _ and she likes Kix being close by and his drowsy humming is making her eyelids heavy, so she yawns, tucks the blanket around his shoulders.

There are stress lines on his forehead, and before she really _ thinks _ about it, Ca'tra reaches out with one finger and just barely traces one, as though she could smooth it away. And then she yanks her hand back to her chest and freezes, waiting for him to wake up and grumble--but he doesn't even move, except to shift his head like he's almost  _ looking _ for her hand.

And she doesn't know what she's _ thinking, _ she's curious and exhausted and that's the only excuse, because she watches him closely,  _ very _ carefully places her palm against his cheek. Sure enough, he tilts his head towards her, and that makes something glow warm and bright in her chest; she goes to pull back again, but he _ moves _ and oh _ no _ but it's just his hand coming up to clutch at her wrist. Like he's asking her to stay.

Ca'tra doesn't really know what to do with any of this.

But she does know she's tired and Kix has her wrist, so she slips beneath the blankets and twists her hand so she's threading her fingers through his (he shifts a moment, then tightens his hold on her, exhales softly), tugs his hand over to tuck beneath her cheek.

Her eyes have just fluttered closed when there's an unexpected weight on her side; she tenses, eyes flying open, but it's just Kix: he's flung his free arm over her and curled himself closer, like in his sleep he can't bear the _ space, _ and she should be _ panicking _ but instead she _ smiles. _ Because Kix is _ safe _ and he's _ aliit _ and she should feel trapped by his arm but instead she feels protected (she feels _ cherished, _ she feels important, she feels safe).

So instead of panicking, Ca'tra closes her eyes again and snuggles closer, even though his armor is poky, and she's still smiling when sleep finally takes her.

~~~

Waking up feels  _ good _ today, all lazy and drowsy and comfortable, and Kix does not want to move. Part of him aches and that's probably from his armor, he knows that feeling, but he doesn't even mind because everywhere else is so warm.

Then something moves and he's suddenly aware of the other person in the bed with him, and he's too sleepy to remember why that should concern him, especially since they're pressing closer to him and then there's a light touch on his chest, through his blacks (when did that happen? partly he doesn't care). He sighs, eases further into the bed, and quickly the other person (Ca’tra, right, he's in Ca’tra’s room) pulls her hand away and that's disappointing.

But he doesn't move, just breathes and enjoys the  _ comfort _ , and she settles her fingers back, after a moment, under his collarbone, traces a circle, and that's nice, that's really nice, he- oh. This isn't a normal thing that happens. He has his arm around Ca’tra and one of his hands is under her head and she's tracing lazy circles on his chest.

Force preserve him, he doesn't want to move still. Can't, almost, because Ca’tra feels shy and tentative and he doesn't know why she's doing this but he doesn't want her to stop. Doesn't want to wake up and make her apologize, because she would.

Never mind that he might have more to apologize for, he's not sure. So he clings to his drowsiness and is  _ still _ , sure he's never going to forget the feel of her in his arms, hand on his chest.

~~~

Wakefulness comes slowly, in waves, like the receding tide. Ca'tra doesn't want to _ move, _ this morning; doesn't want to leave the safety and warmth she's enveloped in. There's an arm around her (Kix, it's Kix holding her so close), but she's not afraid, just drowsy and content and at _ peace. _

The Force is soft and gentle and bright, and she reaches for it--it wraps Light and easy around her thoughts, and she could almost _ swear _ it _ chuckles. _

Everything is drowsy and slow, and Ca'tra hums to herself, curls a bit closer to Kix, lazily ghosts the fingers of her free hand in circles and loops and swirls across his chest. Kix _ moves, _ sighs softly and shifts into the mattress, and for a moment she freezes with her fingertips just barely touching him; but he settles back down, his breathing regular and deep. Still asleep, then.

She traces out a few Mando'a words against the sturdy, form-fitting material of his blacks, because she's tired and lazy and he's still sleeping and she wants to. She _ wants _ and so she _ does, _ and that is such an unbelievable thing--for so long,  _ wanting _ was a thing forbidden her. She did not _ want, _ she _ breathed, _ she _ existed. _

And now, now Kix has shown her how to want, how to be more than the Apprentice, and she _ wants. _ She wants safe and warm and laughing and happy, and Kix is all of those things. He is Light careful and soothing in her thoughts, he is a bright smile that always, always draws an answering smile from her, he is gentle fingers messy and tangled in her hair. She writes all this out in lazy letters on his chest and breathes, lets herself _ touch, _ lets herself be _ close, _ because she is more than ice and fire and ash and she is allowed to  _ want _ and she has never _ wanted _ like this before.

~~~

Kix thinks Ca’tra is  _ writing _ \- he feels what he thinks is the word  _ safe _ traced over his left pectoral, and he should tell her he's awake, he should stop her and sit up and make sure this is all okay, before she does something she really doesn't want him to know she's done. As it is, he can hear more of her thoughts than he thinks she'd ever want him to, and he's  _ trying _ not to listen but he feels wanting, feels comfort and… and Light, and he can't help the thrill of excitement that shoots through him because Ca’tra feels so  _ Light _ and the Force is humming easily.

And Ca’tra goes  _ stiff, _ yanks her hand back (and he tries not to mind that, tries not to miss her hand against his chest), lets go of his hand under her cheek and scoots back, and Kix flushes, opens his eyes almost guiltily. He shouldn't have let her think he was asleep, because she looks a little horrified and feels embarrassed, pulling up shields, and he tries an awkward smile and pulls his arm from around her in case she didn't want him holding her - the only reason he doesn't feel  _ horrible _ that his arm was around her in the first place is, well, the fact she was curled so close.

~~~

Kix pulls his arm from around her, and that’s the final straw.

Ca’tra jolts to a sitting position, drags her knees up to her chest and rests her chin carefully on them, tries to swallow her horror down. She hadn’t  _ known, _ if she’d known he was awake she’d  _ never _ have--never have allowed herself that moment of--of…

Of what?

_ A moment of weakness, _ a voice hisses from part of her brain, and she curls her shoulders inward a touch, acknowledging that truth--but  _ a moment of humanity _ says another voice, and.

And aren’t they really one and the same thing? Weakness and humanity. To the Sith, yes--it is a disease that must be eradicated, in fire and blood and chaos and victory. To the  _ jetiise… _ she thinks to them, humanity is a, a  _ corruption, _ something that worms its way inside a heart and poisons it from the inside out--the kind of flaw that creates something like Dooku. But that’s  _ wrong, _ because humanity is the thing her Master never  _ had, _ the thing she thinks could’ve kept him from becoming what he was.

She really does  _ not _ like the  _ jetiise _ Code.

But none of that is  _ important; _ Ca’tra can’t look at Kix, rushes out an apology,  _ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I thought you were asleep, I’m really sorry. _

Kix sits up too, slowly--he feels  _ sore, _ in her mind, even through her shields, and she winces a little in sympathy, still can’t look at him. “It’s okay, Ca’tra, I didn’t mind,” he says gently, carefully. “I’m sorry I let you think I was asleep.”

And she doesn’t know what to  _ think, _ about that. But she  _ does _ know that Kix is a healer first and foremost (that’s  _ why _ he’s here, why he stays, why he talks even though she’s  _ shev’la, _ silent, because she is a patient and he a healer and he cannot resist a broken soul), he’s a medic, the Force is Light and life and rejuvenation around him, always, and she--

And she is  _ dha werda. _

She is the Shadow, the executioner, the Darkness that is cast by Kix’s Light, there is blood crimson on her hands and ice in her bones and chaos in her veins and she shouldn’t, should be  _ careful, _ because she will darken his brightness and freeze his warmth and she  _ can’t. _ So she wanted him to be  _ asleep, _ because he is safety and warmth and peace and laughter like music on the wind, but he is not  _ hers, _ and wanting is never a luxury she has allowed herself.

~~~

Ca’tra’s shaking her head a tiny bit, and the Light he was so excited to feel has mostly fled and she feels guilty, pulls her hands in toward her stomach and wrings them together a little. There's that kriffing Dark crackling around her thoughts again and she reiterates,  _ I'm sorry, Kix.  _ And he's not sure she's apologizing for touching anymore, exactly.

“Ca’tra,” he says, very gently, reaches out carefully and touches her hands, curls his fingers over the backs of hers. She tenses, but she doesn't pull away, so that's good. Kix sinks into the Light a little and tried to catch her eyes, but she's not looking at him. Her hair’s a mess, part of it still in what's left of his attempt at a braid. “It's really okay, I… It was nice.”

He presses into the Force, brushes away as much of the Dark as he can reach, and pulls her hands closer to him.

She shakes her head, feels frustrated and sad all at once.  _ I am- was an executioner, Kix, dha werda. You can't fix a shadow. _

Kix hums a little in his chest, a touch saddened. “Why does there have to be anything to fix,  _ mirdala _ ?” he asks, gruffly. She isn't a shadow, it's just that the Dark  _ clings _ . “You reached for the Light, just now, Ca’tra, you did it. Shadows don't do that.”

She hesitates, and he feels an impression of her hands red with blood and his healing, and he sighs and takes one of her palms, risks raising it to set her fingers against his chest again.  _ You don't just kill _ , he thinks lightly.  _ Anymore than I and my vode do. _

~~~

Ca’tra shrugs one shoulder, still doesn’t look at him. Still  _ can’t. _ He feels like he  _ wants _ her to, like he wishes she would, but she  _ can’t. _

Kix lets go of her hand, and she  _ knows _ he wants her to leave it against his chest where he’d put it, but she can’t, can’t, shouldn’t  _ touch. _ She doesn’t… she’s  _ dha werda, _ she’s the shadows, he is Light and she doesn’t want to dim him. So she pulls her hand back and tucks her elbows tight into her sides, twists her hands together behind her knees and sits as still as she can, because there’s still something in her that  _ wants _ and wants and wants. Wants Kix, wants to touch, wants the Light, but she’s  _ shadows. _ She can’t have any of it. Which is why she’s not allowed to  _ want. _

She  _ tries _ to stay still, but she’s shaky and there’s something hot and aching in her throat, choking her, and she can’t seem to swallow it; to her horror, she can feel tears building up in her eyes (and no, no, she has not cried since  _ he _ took her, since he ripped her from Elle’s arms, because her sister screamed and said  _ be brave, I promise I’ll find you, _ and  _ he _ gave her  _ pain _ and told her  _ little girls cry, but you are no little girl, Ca’tra, you are my apprentice now, and tears are weakness, and if you show me a weakness I will exploit that weakness until you learn, _ and there was pain, pain, pain and she learned the art of being ice, because if you’re frozen you cannot cry) and she squeezes them shut in the hopes she can  _ stop it. _ Reaches for cold and Dark and ice, because  _ weakness _ he chants in her head, but Kix is still being warm fire in her mind and she can’t stop.

But she can at least make sure that when the tears finally spill over onto her cheeks, her sobs are utterly silent.

~~~

Ca’tra is wanting, and sorrow, and then  _ memory _ , and Kix can feel old hurts and fears twisting vicious through her thoughts. Her pale face is so  _ lost _ and she's trembling, swallowing hard, and he eases Light further into her mind so she doesn't sink under all the memories and, he realizes, guilt.

She squeezes her eyes tight shut, takes a shuddering breath and then two, and  _ Force _ she’s tense. If he wasn't paying so much attention he might have missed the first few tears, but then she takes another deep, shaky breath and drops her forehead to her knees.

And she's still so  _ quiet _ , except for the raggedness of her breathing, and there's dampness on her cheeks where he can see, so he eases towards her and leans over her knees, slides both arms around her shoulders until she angles towards him, just a little, and then he combs his fingers into her hair and cups the back of her head, tilts his forehead into hers and waits.  _ You're okay, _ he thinks, feels her whole  _ body _ shaking with a heavy, silent sob.  _ It was terrible, I know. It's okay _ . She feels like she might just cave in on herself under the weight of all the memories and trying to be quiet and still.  _ Tracinya’ika, you're here now. I'm here. You're safe, he can't reach you anymore. It's okay to breathe, Ca’tra. _

_ Let it go _ , he thinks, not so much  _ to  _ her except as an impression. He shifts closer, twists his fingers further into her hair, and projects the fact that he has her, that he isn't letting anything happen to her. Safety.

~~~

_Shev’la,_ _buir whispers, shev’la, cyar’ika ad, you’ll be okay, and mama presses her forehead to hers and hums a lullaby and promises, promises to come back. Shev’la, my dear, she says, show me how brave you are, and she is brave and a big girl now, she is_ ** _four,_** _so she nods and takes a big breath in and wipes the tears from her face with one small, pale fist. The noises outside are loud, loud, so loud, it is the war, she knows that. Knows the sounds of akaan, of kyr’am, and daddy is all bright in his beskar’gam, and so is mama, and it’s_ ** _poky_** _when mama’s hugging her but that’s okay. Ca’tra doesn’t mind poky, so much, because she likes how she feels safe and warm and loved when her mama and daddy hug her._

_ Where’s Elly, mama? she asks, but her voice doesn’t shake, because she is a big girl and she is brave, going to be brave for mama. Is she gonna go too? Elle is fourteen, Elle has her own beskar’gam and blasters and sen’tra. Elle is almost a warrior for Clan Cadera already, even though she’s only just got her first beskar’gam. _

_ No, ad’ika, daddy says, your sister’s staying with you. _

_ But I’m a big girl, daddy! She pouts. I can be brave, daddy, I’m not hut’uun, I don’t need Elly to stay. _

_ I don’t doubt your heart, love, only the reach of your arm, daddy says, and he smiles at her, winks. _

_ Mama is serious. Ca’tra, if the Kyr’tsad comes here, you have to hide in the secret place, okay? Hide and be very very quiet. Do you remember what I told you? _

_ Ca’tra nods. She has a very good memory. Silence is safety, mama, she says, if I’m quiet the monsters can’t get me. _

_ Very good, sweetheart, mama says. I love you, okay, ad’ika? Never forget that, no matter what happens, I will always, always love you. _

_ Me too, daddy says, and then he says, riduur, it’s time, and for some reason mama looks like she’s gonna cry, and Ca’tra doesn’t understand that but she knows what to do when she sees the teardrop bright and sparkly on mama’s cheek. _

_ S’okay, mama! You can be brave too, she says, smiles wide and big and gap-toothed (because Arik is a stupid chaavla besom and he’d punched her tooth out when she kicked his shebs--oops, that’s a bad word, mama says never say that word--because he pulled her hair). We’re mando’ade, mama, we’re always brave. _

_ Mama is crying more now, and Ca’tra is confused, because mama shouldn’t be crying, mama is brave, braver than all the rest of Clan Cadera’s warriors except daddy (because she and daddy are as brave as each other), but mama smiles and kisses Ca’tra’s forehead (and ewwwww, she’s  _ **_four,_ ** _ she doesn’t like kisses anymore) and says, never forget that, sarad’ika. _

_ Ca’tra nods. Mando’ade are always brave, and silence is safety. She can remember that. She can remember, and remember, and never ever forget it. _

_ Mama stands up, and she puts her helmet on, and so does daddy, and they hold hands and go out the door, and there’s more loud noise and it’s scary but she is mando’ad and she is brave and silence is safety, so she does not cry. Not at all. Even when somebody screams and there’s burning and explosions and a blaster shoots into the wall near her head. Elle comes, beskar’gam on but helmet off, takes her hand and says, come on, tra’ika, let’s go to the secret place, yeah? So Ca’tra does, remembers silence is safety and we are brave and she stays so, so quiet until the sounds go away and the door opens and there are people inside, searching the house, and when they find Elle with blasters out and her curled small in a corner with her stuffed bear they talk to Elle about being safe and needing a warrior and Elle says deal and she doesn’t know what that means, but mama said we are brave and silence is safety and so she is quiet, she doesn’t look at the people or at the blood on their armor. _

_ She doesn’t say anything until she asks where’s mama and daddy? and Elle goes white and the people kinda stop and she thinks, oh. Oh. _

_ And we are brave, mama said, never forget it, but even the brave cry sometimes. _

Safety, Kix sends, and no. No.  _ Silence is safety, _ silence is safety, and she swallows a noise and can’t even her breathing so she just  _ doesn’t, _ she just holds her breath until it  _ aches _ (and Kix is worried, he’s telling her to  _ breathe, tracinya, I’ve got you, you’re safe, _ but silence is safety and her breathing is too loud in her ears and--). It hurts. She breathes, gasps in a shattered-glass breath that cuts her throat raw and bloody and stabs sharp into her lungs, and it  _ hurts, _ it hurts, it hurts. (Mama and daddy and--and  _ everybody, _ all of them, all of them, everyone  _ gone, gone, gone, _ and she clutches Ik’aad close to her chest and hides her face and her tears because  _ she is brave _ and  _ silence is safety _ and if she’s silent the monsters won’t find her.)

_ You  _ **_are_ ** _ brave,  _ Kix says, but  _ no, _ never brave, brave girls don’t cry,  _ easy there. You’ve been so brave,  _ cyar’ika, _ it’s okay. _ And there’s more safety, he promises safety, promises he’s here, and she can’t, she can’t, she  _ can’t. _

Silence is, silence. Silence is safety. Safe. (She has never been safe and she has been silent since the Master came and--and, and mama  _ promised, _ but she’s been silent but the monsters came  _ anyway, _ the monster found her, the monster found her and swallowed her whole and she was silent the whole time, she stayed silent and she didn’t cry but she still cowered anyway, she was never  _ brave, _ she was silent and ice, ice, ice.)

Silence…

_ (Shev’la, cyar’ika ad, you’ll be okay. Silence is safety, never forget.) _

Ca’tra pulls away a little, enough to lay her head on Kix’s shoulder, and. And silence is  _ nothing, _ silence has  _ never _ been safety, silence can’t keep away the monsters, the monsters just eat you up anyway and she tried to be safe and be silent and he took her and made her a shadow and she’s not  _ safe _ and mama--and mama… and mama… and everything mama said…  _ “Jehaate,” _ and it’s raw and awful and torn from her throat on the cresting wave of another sob, it’s all a lie, all of it, silence never did  _ anything _ and mama  _ died _ and let the monsters have her and, and.  _ Gedet’ye, Kix, _ she thinks, not sure why, but it all is too  _ much _ and she can’t, she can’t, she can’t.

~~~

There's so  _ much, _ the memory and the pain and her fear and her face pressed into his shoulder, hands grabbing onto the material of his blacks, that he doesn't really understand at first that she’s  _ spoken _ except the word comes hard, ragged, choking, not like her mental voice but a little the same: low and lost. When he understands that, part of him absolutely  _ thrills  _ at the sound, and he thinks it's good that her sobs suddenly have sound, that she's  _ breathing _ , and his grip on her tightens.

“You're okay,” he says, feeling oddly like crying himself. “You're okay. I'm so proud of you,  _ tracinya _ . It's okay, you're safe.” If he says it enough, maybe she'll believe him. “It's okay, just let it go. You're fine.”

Her fingers curl tighter in his blacks and he starts carding his fingers through her hair, hums a little, almost with a tune, and holds onto the Light. She's still crying when she speaks  _ again _ (and now isn't the time to be  _ happy _ but Kix is a bit anyway), says, “Light, please,” and he understands, grabs onto the Force and pours Light liquid into her mind, slides one of his hands out of her hair to cup her cheek.

_ Thank you _ , she thinks, and he pitches his humming a little higher, finds the tune of an old song Jesse likes. He doesn't even know what it is, it's some Mandalorian thing, slow and soft-sounding. He thinks his voice is too deep and rough for it but he thinks it might help, so he sticks to it.

~~~

Ca’tra lets out a soft, shuddering breath, leans into Kix’s hand and lets the quiet humming soothe her; her breathing is ragged and uneven and jerking, and she focuses on the rise and fall of Kix’s chest, splays one hand out across his stomach and tries as best as she can to synchronize her breathing with his. It’s  _ hard, _ and there are still tears streaming down her cheeks, but eventually the humming and the regularity of his breathing steady her enough that she can get her crying under control.

After a time, the emotions subside and the tears run out, her damp cheeks and red-rimmed eyes the only visible signs of the emotional storm that’d caught her entirely by surprise. Kix still has a hand on her cheek, his thumb running across her cheekbone, back and forth, repetitive and calming and  _ comforting, _ an anchor to ground her. She reaches for his mind a little, and for the Light he’s still (thankfully) holding around her like a shield, like a blanket, peace and warmth and tranquility. But that’s not the only thing she’s searching for; she wraps herself in a corner of his mind, because silence isn’t safety, not really, but since the first time she saw him Kix has protected her, kept her safe, even risking his own safety to take Dooku’s lightning for her.

He tightens his hold on her a little, a rush of warm, protective affection surging through his thoughts, and she breathes in, out, keeps her head leaning into his shoulder and opens her eyes, stares at her hand on his chest for a moment. And then she lets go of his blacks, slides that arm around his waist, rests her other hand on his shoulder and tilts her face into his neck, breathes. She  _ wants _ to apologize, but she doesn’t know quite how to, and she thinks maybe Kix doesn’t want her to, anyway. A part of her notes he feels  _ happy, _ and she presses a curious impression into his mind--in response, he shows her a flicker of memory of her  _ speaking, _ and she feels her lips twitch into a small smile against his neck. Remembers  _ yeah, that’s my name, you should try using it sometime, _ and it’s not easy. It’s  _ hard, _ in fact, and it’d be so much simpler and less exhausting to just  _ think _ to him, but he’d  _ asked _ and… and she wants to.

So she swallows  _ hard, _ breathes in, out, in again, musters her will (because Kix is safe) and murmurs, hoarse and rough and barely audible, her voice creaky from disuse,  _ “Su cuy’gar, _ Kix.”

~~~

Kix’s chest could just about  _ explode _ , he thinks, it's so warm and aching, and he grins so wide, even though her face is still buried in his neck, and says, “Hello, Ca’tra.” Her voice is scratchy but he thinks he likes it, how low and quiet it is. He feels a huff of breath on his skin and he can't stop smiling, traces the ridges of her spine. “Good to hear you,  _ mirdala _ .”

He can  _ feel _ her smile, and  _ Force _ that's wonderful.  _ Yeah _ , she thinks, and he sighs and shifts a little.

“So… my armor,” he says lightly, and she tenses a little, feels slightly guilty, and he snorts softly. “You?”

There's a pulse of tentative agreement, like she thinks he still might be upset, and he chuckles. “Well, thanks.” He hadn't exactly been planning to fall asleep, and he's grateful he's not  _ more _ sore right now.

_ Armor is too poky to sleep in _ , she thinks, which is very true, although Kix is used to making do.  _ And you might have squashed me if I left it on _ and Kix feels the memory of him latching onto her in his sleep, which makes him grimace even though it had not been his fault and she clearly doesn't mind.

He doesn't apologize, because he thinks she wouldn't like that.

And she couldn't be this close and comfortable if he still had his armor pieces on, so he chuckles and says  _ thanks _ again.

She eases a deep breath in and out, nods, slides her hand from his shoulder down to his chest and he feels she's shy, but she goes back to tracing shapes, so lightly he almost can't feel it through his blacks. He holds himself very still, and everything feels a little surreal, a little like anything could happen, like he has  _ no kriffing idea _ what's going on but it's all okay. He runs his hand up and down her spine a few times but that's all he feels able to move, a little scared he'll kriff this all up. She traces what he thinks is his name over his collarbone and he hums a little from deep in his chest, curls his hand over her shoulder blade.

He thinks he could just… stay like this.

~~~

Ca'tra doesn't want to _ move. _

Kix is warm and happy and lazy, one hand running up and down her back, the other curled over her shoulder; he takes one hand and settles it in her hair, after a moment, runs his fingers across her scalp and down, untangling the long black strands as he goes, and she makes a pleased noise in her chest almost like a purr, tilts back into his hand. Kix feels _ amused _ by that, and there's an impression of loth-cats when they're getting their ears scratched.

“Not a cat,” she rasps out, her lips brushing against his skin--it's easier, this time, to talk, though she doesn't think she could speak to someone who isn't Elle or Kix yet. She dares to put a little more pressure behind her fingertips, draws out a little flower on his chest.

Every time she speaks, Kix gets _ happier; _ she tilts her head back to look up at him, sees his golden-warm eyes are practically _ glowing _ as he smiles down at her, and she blushes a little, looks away.

Which is how her eyes land on his tattoos again.

The Aurebesh script has _ fascinated _ her since she'd first noticed it, and there's something warm and bright and bold in her blood this morning. It allows her to, greatly daring, shift back some, lift her hand up and run the tip of her pointer finger along the letters she can easily reach. Kix's eyes flutter closed and he inhales sharply, his hand tightening on her shoulder, and she almost stops except she can feel a shock of _ pleasure _ across the bond and he doesn't pull away, leans  _ into _ the touch instead. She hums a little, pleased with the result, and then considers his face.

That same wild confidence pulses heady through her veins, and his eyes are still closed, so she trails her fingers across the bones of his face, the lines and faint silvery scars and the crease in his forehead. She maps the contours of his face like she's done with the Temple, commits to memory the hills and valleys, and then she just _ barely _ drags her fingers across his lips.

And _ that _ draws a ragged,  _ “Ca'tra,” _ out of him; she smiles a little, drops her inquisitive hand to his neck, whispers, “Kix.” Because if he's going to say her name… and besides, she could _ tell _ how excited he was to hear his name in her voice.

~~~

She traces her fingers over his face like she… like she's trying to learn it, like he's special, and Kix can't open his eyes,has no idea what to do with the way his heart is pounding, just keeps running his fingers over her scalp, shivers a little when she traces her fingers over his brow.

She feels confident and curious and warm and soft, and there's a hint of shyness and she runs her fingers light, too light, over his  _ lips _ . “ _ Ca’tra, _ ” he breathes, hoarse, doesn't quite mean to, just… She's so close, and gentle, and clever, and beautiful, and he almost thinks… Force, he doesn't know.

Her hand leaves his face and he opens his eyes. Ca’tra’s smiling, and she answers him again, “Kix,” and he  _ really _ likes her voice, likes her saying his name and smiling at him almost as if she has no idea what she's doing to him. Except she must, because there's a thrill of nervousness and daring in her thoughts.

So he hesitates a moment, because he doesn't want to ruin this, and reaches up to skim his fingers over the arch of her nose and the curve of her cheekbone, watches the way her eyelids flutter (and she has long, dark lashes, which he thinks is pretty). Then he holds her gaze (and she's flushing, shy, but she doesn't look away) and runs his thumb across her lips, and she breathes in, says, “Kix,” again, and he can't anymore.

Shifts forward, slides his fingers from her lips to the corner of her jaw, sets his other hand tentative on her hip. Rests his forehead against hers, feels her exhale against his lips. “Ca’tra,” he says, soft, “Can I…” He doesn't know how to ask; he feels flushing, stupid, like a shiny unfamiliar with the terrain (which he is, really), and it's all so new and good. “Can I kiss you, please?”

~~~

When Kix trails his fingers across her face, studying her like he's taking note of her reactions (and she flushes and tries to pretend she wasn't doing the same thing just last night), it's all Ca'tra can do to keep from closing her eyes. She can't _ breathe, _ not really, not right, the breaths she manages to get are short and sharp and jagged. He feels warm and thrilled and happy, his thoughts bright with affection, though pulsing with nervousness.

She understands being nervous. There's a thrill of nervousness sparking through  _ her _ right now, something like _ anticipation _ mixed in, and she wants--she doesn't know.

Then Kix holds her gaze (and it's that same reckless confidence that keeps her from looking away), his eyes intent, and runs his thumb across her lips, and _ oh. _ She sucks in a ragged breath, can't stop herself from saying his name, and that's apparently the right thing to say because he cups her jaw with one hand, slips the other to her hip, leans his forehead against hers.

And he's still holding her eyes.

“Can I kiss you, please?”

For a moment, Ca'tra forgets to breathe. Everything _ stops _ and she's frozen, can hardly register the question, can't believe he's actually _ asking this. _

And she wants. Oh, how she _ wants, _ and wanting used to be a thing forbidden, but no. Not this. She won't forbid herself this.

So she nods just a little, moves her hand back to his shoulder, breathes in enough to get out the words.  _ “Elek, _ Kix,  _ gedet’ye.” _

~~~

Even with permission, Kix almost can't move with the way his heart is beating, stomach flip-flopping foolishly, and he smiles, almost chuckles at himself, before just tilting towards her, their noses bumping, and presses his lips against hers. It's unfamiliar and strange and he doesn't know what he's doing but it sends a thrill of pleasure through his stomach.

He pulls back too soon to meet Ca’tra’s eyes, absurdly nervous, scanning her face. She smiles too, then looks down and  _ giggles _ and Kix flushes. “That bad, huh?” he says, mostly kidding, partly nervous.

She rolls her eyes and runs her fingers up his jawline and into his bristly hair.  _ Shut up, Kix _ .

He pulls his hands back and crosses his arms, arching a brow at her.  _ Or what? _

She blushes and shakes her head, stops rubbing her fingers through his hair (and he grumbles a little). This all doesn't feel real, still. He's never felt anything like this, the warmth and thrill of Ca’tra smiling shyly at him, and he decides it doesn't matter if it was a bad kiss or not.

He pushes affection into her thoughts and reaches out to pull her into a hug, presses his nose into her hair and breathes in the smell of her, something kind of sweet and spicy and nice.

~~~

Ca'tra hums softly, closes her eyes and thinks,  _ Did you mean to call me cyar’ika? _ She had noticed, in some far corner of her mind, but it hadn't been _ important _ and so she'd dismissed it.

Now, though…

Now, he's _ kissed her, _ and there's something bright and shining in his thoughts, and she decides she wants to stay like this forever. She doesn't want to leave this room, doesn't even want to leave the security that is his arms tight around her.

Kix feels vaguely _ confused, _ for a moment, and then he swears under his breath. “I'm sorry,” he says into her hair, “I didn't even notice--”

She cuts him off with a little laugh.  _ It's fine, I like it. _ Shyly:  _ I like it when you call me nicknames. _

Kix hums, feels happy and bright and he tightens his arms around her.  _ Well, that's good, then. _ She feels that he wants to kiss her again, which she definitely thinks could be arranged, but that he's afraid it was a bad kiss.

She frowns, pulls back to look him in the eyes again.  _ I've never kissed anyone before, so I wouldn't know, _ she thinks, a bit wryly.  _ But, _ and she's not sure where the courage comes from, but she smiles a little and says,  _ you know what they say. Practice makes perfect. _

~~~

Kix laughs, surprised, and winks at her (and Force, no, no winking, that's  _ kriffing stupid _ ) and leans in for another kiss; she runs her fingers over his scalp again, and he most decidedly  _ likes _ that.

_ I've wanted to trace these since I first saw them _ , Ca’tra thinks while running her fingers over his tattoo, kind of shy, and Kix preens a little.  _ I like them _ .

About kriffing time someone appreciated the effort he puts in.  _ Thanks _ , he thinks, eases back enough to just rest his forehead against hers, grins because he can't kriffing  _ stop _ . This, he thinks, explains why even Rex smiles so much around the Commander. Feeling this kriffing light and warm and ecstatic makes it hard not to smile like a di’kut.

_ The only good droid is a dead one, _ she repeats back at him, raising an eyebrow, and he laughs.

_Yep._ _Sometimes not even then_. He chuckles and leans back, happens to catch sight of his pack of supplies by the door and kriff. _Oops,_ he sends, cringing. _Tuck’s going to be pissed at me._

_ Sorry, _ she answers, wincing, and he smiles.

_ Don't you dare apologize, tracinya. Do you want to go with me back to the medbay? _

~~~

_ Yes, please, _ Ca'tra hums brightly. The Light is shining all around her again and she reaches out, careful, touches it and draws it in and wraps it around her--and it doesn’t flee her touch. She  _ beams, _ thinks,  _ Look, Kix, _ but he’s already grinning at her like she’s the most amazing thing in the galaxy and projecting joy.

“I told you you could do it,  _ mirdala,” _ he says, and she laughs at him. Untangles herself from his arms, because her hair is a  _ mess, _ and pads barefoot over to her desk, opens a drawer and pulls out a hairbrush. “Hey, let me?”

Well, if Kix is  _ offering, _ she’s surely not going to refuse him. Ca’tra smiles, nods, returns to the bed and hands him the brush, sitting cross-legged down in front of him.  _ You gonna fall asleep on me this time, ner’verd? _

“Probably not,  _ ner’tracinya,” _ he hums, projects the impression that she’s  _ cute, _ and she makes a face. 

Projects annoyance back.  _ Elle would punch your teeth in for calling her cute, _ she thinks.

Kix chuckles, says,  _ Well, it’s a good thing I’m not calling Elle cute, then. _

**_I’ll_ ** _ punch you! _ she snaps, because  _ cute _ is  _ insulting, _ really, but then Kix starts running the brush through her hair and  _ kriff him, _ it feels good and she can’t hold on to her irritation.  _ Kriffing di’kut. _

Kix hums, and she doesn’t have to be looking at him to  _ know _ he’s smiling at her. Kriff him.  _ I’m clearly moving up on the trust spectrum if you’re swearing at me, _ he thinks lightly, and  _ ugh _ why does he have to feel so  _ smug? _

She  _ wants _ to accuse him of something, but she can’t really come up with a good insult right now because he’s slipping his fingers through her hair at the same time as he brushes it, and she can’t help leaning back into his hand and letting out a pleased sigh. Which just makes him feel  _ more _ smug. Ca’tra huffs, thinks,  _ I’m going to break your nose _ as threateningly as she can.

He does  _ not _ seem at all concerned.  _ You hardly need an excuse to kiss me, Ca’tra, _ and it takes her a second before she realizes--kiss it better--and she swears at him, mentally. And then turns and punches his shoulder.

Hard.

“I guess I deserved that,” Kix says dryly, but his eyes are sparkling and he’s smiling and for the first time she lets herself note that he’s really quite handsome, and  _ kark _ it all, she’s staring. Oops.

_ You did, _ she tells him, twisting back around so he can continue brushing her hair, humming in pleasure, and he sends the impression of that kriffing loth-cat again. He feels like he wants to make a pun about  _ cats _ and her name, and she sends him  _ warning, _ because no. That’s just… ridiculous.  _ Di’kutla. _

Kix’s hand lingers in her hair, and she catches a thought about how  _ soft _ it is. He’s set the brush down beside him on the bed, and she can feel he knows he needs to go back to the medbay, but there’s a strange  _ reluctance _ in his thoughts.  _ C’mere, cyar’ika, _ he thinks, and she goes willingly as he tugs her back into his arms again, leans her head on his shoulder and sighs.

This is nice. She thinks she could probably stay here for a very long time.

~~~

Kix gives himself a few moments to stroke her hair along her temple, breathing relaxed and easy, before he sighs and nudges her shoulder. “Let’s go,” he says lightly. “Before Tuck comms me and yells at me.”

Ca’tra feels grumpy about that, but she moves and lets him swing his legs out of the bed and pull his boots back on, starts clasping on his left bracer and vambrace. Ca’tra leans over, suddenly, and grabs his other armor pieces, gives him a shy look before taking hold of his right wrist and fitting on his bracer, fingers pressing around his forearm. He smiles, stomach twisting, and starts on his left pauldron, tries not to pay too much attention to the feeling of her fingers on his arm.

He fastens on the front and back pieces of his cuirass, lets Ca’tra finish buckling on his pauldron, and tightens his right bracer a little. “Thanks.”

There’s a light impression like “you’re welcome,” and she says,  _ I used to help Elle put her armor on - I never got my own beskar’gam _ .

It feels as if she’s  _ admitting _ something to him, which confuses him a little; he stands up, pulling on his gloves and gauntlets.  _ I’m sorry, _ he thinks.  _ You could get some now, if you wanted _ .

_ Maybe _ , she thinks, feels reticent, and Kix frowns and files this away to consider more later.  _ You said we needed to go? _ she thinks, and he nods, picks up his bucket, tucks it under his arm.

_ Probably. _

_ Don’t put your helmet on? _ she asks, and he smiles.

_ No problem _ . He doesn’t like the kriffing thing much. He fits his arm over her shoulder, sending an apology for the hard corners of his armor pieces, and he snags his pack of supplies as they head out into the hallway. He feels Ca’tra get  _ still _ , drawn in on herself a little, and it doesn’t surprise him exactly, but it is disappointing.

She stays mostly quiet like that the whole walk, but she’s sticking close to his side, so that’s good. They only run into a few people as they get closer to the medbay: Miik’s papa, Zarak, Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, a few Jedi medics and 212th troopers. Ca’tra just shifts closer to him, and he feels she’s anxious again, so he soothes her thoughts a little, gives her a small smile as he keys in the code for the medbay door.

~~~

The medbay door opens and Kix walks in; Ca’tra keeps herself tucked under his arm, looks around the room without meeting anyone’s eyes--a skill she’d developed back with Dooku. The whole squad, the one Kix calls  _ Domino _ in his thoughts, is sprawled on chairs around a bunk, except for the  _ Alor’ad, _ Rex, who’s sitting on the bunk next to another trooper. This trooper looks familiar, but she can’t place him without his armor. It’s Kix who tells her  _ Commander Cody of the 212th, _ and  _ right, _ of course, she sees that now. 

The one named Jesse, Kix’s  _ ori’vod _ (which has a little different connotation to the clones, she’s figured out), grins and stretches, says laconically, “Hey there,  _ ori’vod. _ Sleep well?”

“Yes, actually,” Kix says, and she peeks up at his face because he sounds  _ grumpy. _

There’s a moment of silence, and Ca’tra frowns a bit, can’t quite place the reason everything feels… almost  _ awkward. _ The troopers are all giving Kix  _ looks, _ grinning and stuff, and she doesn’t know  _ why _ but Jesse’s eyes are flickering from her to Kix and back and she has a sneaking suspicion this all has to do with the fact that Kix was supposed to be back in the medbay last night.

“So spill, Kix,” Brii (artist, red-tipped hair and bright armor and brighter smile) chirps, grins. “Did’ja kiss her or not? I’ve got more credits than I actually  _ own _ riding on this.”

“Shut  _ up, _ Brii!” the long-haired trooper, Tup, says sharply, and he smacks Brii hard enough the clone (who’s sitting backwards on his chair, leaning on the back of it) loses his balance and hits the floor.

_ “Ow, _ Tup, what was  _ that _ for? It was an innocent question!”

“It was a  _ personal _ question,” Tup says.

Jesse shrugs, smirks. “That didn’t stop you from putting two hundred cred in the pool.”

Ca’tra doesn’t quite know what to think about all this--a part of her wants to hide, to sink into the floor, but the greater part of her wants to laugh at how very  _ mando’ade _ their humor is.

So she does.

~~~

Kix is glad  _ Ca’tra _ finds this funny, because he’s seriously considering punching all his  _ vode _ in their dumb smirking faces. “That’s none of your kriffing business, Brii,” he sighs, and Rex looks up and grins, which  _ oh kriff,  _ that isn’t fair. He thought Captain Rex of all  _ vode _ \- but no.

“He did, Brii,” he says casually, and Brii pumps his fist from where he’s sitting on the floor, and Jesse makes a low whistling noise that Kix decidedly  _ does not like _ . “Only took him three weeks.”

“Kriffing seriously, Captain?” he snaps, and Rex shrugs, smirking. “You wanna talk about  _ taking a long time _ , you and karking Commander Tano took  _ two years _ to get your shit together.” Kix can feel that Ca’tra thinks he should just enjoy himself, but  _ kark them _ , this is  _ embarrassing _ .

Cody pushes himself up on his elbows, apparently more engaged in the discussion than Kix had thought. “Could have been sooner,” he says dryly. “We took her to 79’s once with the battalion and I tried to get him to kiss her. He said he ‘wasn’t drunk enough to be that stupid’ and I couldn’t get him to drink anymore. Kriffing stubborn di’kut.”

Rex scowls, punches Cody’s shoulder. “I thought we said we were never going to talk about that again.”

“I didn’t agree to that.” Cody lays back down with the air of someone who’s accomplished what they set out to do. “I said I would never tell Commander Tano. And I haven’t.”

Rex grumbles something under his breath (and Kix is very glad Rex is getting some of his own kriffing medicine again, good riddance), and Jesse gives Kix a wink before chiming in. “I didn’t promise that, though, Captain. I’m gonna tell her.”

“Dish detail,  _ vod _ .”

“Kriff off,” Jesse answers, and Kix grins at him. Cody shrugs a little at Rex, like he’s saying it isn’t his fault, and then winces a little. If the karking Commander has been out of his bunk again Kix is going to shoot him  _ again _ . He feels a trace of amusement from Ca’tra at that, then a question:  _ Why was he out of his bunk before? _

_Because he won’t karking stay put. Thinks he has to be working or fixing things or doing some other important shit on his bad leg. He tried to go_ ** _all the way to the barracks,_** _and he put half his armor on, and General Kenobi had to bring him back. Which he loved._ That might be the only reason Cody hasn’t tried that again, because General Kenobi was _insufferably_ pleased about the whole thing, had spent a few minutes solemnly lecturing Cody on taking care of himself, and telling him that if he did something like that again, Kenobi would really be obliged to carry him back to the medbay and tie him down.

Kix thinks Cody’s still  _ pissed _ at the General about it.

~~~

Ca’tra raises her eyebrows at Commander Cody, torn between amusement and disbelief that he’d be that  _ stupid. All the way to the barracks? _ she repeats, and Kix huffs and nods.

_ Yeah, like a kriffing shiny with no self-preservation, _ he grumbles, and she giggles a little at him. He’s really  _ annoyed _ by everything today, which is--funny.

Another trooper appears practically from out of nowhere, holding a roll of bandages in one hand, although Ca’tra notices him come around the corner of a bunk before anyone else does--she  _ thinks _ this one is Tuck, the 501st’s other medic. “Kriff, Kix,” he says cheerfully. “If I’d known you were going to  _ finally _ get your shit together and take the night off with your girl I would’ve just taken all the supplies back myself.”

Kix throws his hands up, overdramatically (and she bites her lip to stifle another laugh at that), says loudly, “That’s it, I’m  _ leaving,” _ which most of Domino seems to find funny.

Tuck, however, swears sharply and says, “Don’t you kriffing  _ dare, _ Kix. Scratch’s wound opened up  _ again  _ and I only just got the kriffing bleeding stopped, and I can’t stitch it.”

“Again?” Kix says quickly, tensing and stepping away from Ca’tra’s side, frowning and intent. “I just had to deal with that shit last  _ night, _ before I went looking for supplies.”

And Ca’tra remembers the rumors saying  _ Admiral Trench, _ and she pales a little.  _ How was he injured? Kix, how? _ and she tugs on his arm, takes a few swift steps forward.

“Getting wounded to safety,” Kix says, and that’s not  _ enough. _

She shakes her head, looks straight at Commander Cody, musters every ounce of willpower she has (because this is so, so important), and says, hoarse and sharp and raspy,  _ “How?” _

She sees others freeze at her voice, because they all know by now she doesn’t talk, but she stays laser-focused on Cody, hoping he can see the urgency in her eyes. Cody shifts up onto an elbow and says, slowly, confused, “Trench. I got hit in the leg, he came in to get me out, and Trench--”

“Poison,” she says. The one word is  _ hard, _ but she has to, has to tell them. They  _ have to know. _ “Weakens--prey.”

She’d never thought she’d be  _ thankful _ for that particular lesson.

“Ca’tra,” Kix says, serious, and she meets his eyes. “How do you know?” And he adds, silently,  _ I need you to say it so Tuck can hear, if you can, cyar’ika. _

And she swallows, stiffens her spine, closes her eyes. Takes a deep breath in. “Used on me,” she manages, “test, lesson, use the Force to--” and her throat closes and she  _ can’t. _ Can’t do it, there’s too many people.  _ Use the Force to strain toxins out of my bloodstream. Dooku had Trench bite me. I can get it out, I know what I’m looking for, Kix. You won’t be able to stop the bleeding if you don’t get it out. First symptom is unstoppable bleeding from any open injuries--weakens the prey. The poison acts as a blood thinner, and it targets oxygen molecules in the blood. He’ll die from asphyxiation and his organs will shut down if I don’t get it out  _ **_now._ **

“Hells,” Kix whispers faintly. “How long does it take?”

She shrugs a little.  _ Depends how much poison got into his bloodstream. It’s slow, but pervasive. He’ll probably already have permanent damage. I don’t know if Force-healing can fix that or not. _

~~~

Kix grabs Tuck and takes off in a half-run for Scratch’s bunk, Ca’tra coming with him, and relays the information fast. “Blood thinning poison, kriffs up his blood cells carrying oxygen. Ca’tra says she can clear the toxins out.”

“Kriff,” Tuck snaps, and Kix shucks off his gloves and gauntlets as they get up to Scratch’s bunk, shoves some of the junior medics out of his and Ca’tra’s way. He reaches into the Force, feels for the injuries; Scratch lies face down on his bunk, twists his head to look at him.

“Kix? Kix, what is it?” He's tired, slow, breathing all  _ off _ and Kix doesn't understand now how he didn't  _ know _ .

“Ca’tra, can you show me how to do this?” he says, settling his hand calming over a part of Scratch’s back that isn't torn up.

_ It is hard, _ she says shortly.  _ It'll tire me out. _

_ I need to know how _ .

_ I can't be distracted _ , she says, warning, and he nods.  _ Fine, pay attention, but  _ **_don't distract me._ ** She settles her hand over the cut on the back of Tuck's neck that Kix had assumed was just one of his injuries, thinks,  _ I need a chair _ . Kix grabs her one, slides it over and quickly smoothes his hand over her back.

_ You can do this, mirdala _ . “Easy, Scratch. We've got you,  _ vod _ .”

~~~

Ca’tra takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, centers herself. Feels the flow of the Force around her--she’s only ever done this in the Dark, but Kix has been showing her meditation techniques and telling her how he talks to the Force, and just this morning she drew on the Light Side for the first time. And Force-healing can’t be  _ that _ hard, since it’s just the reverse of Force-injure, a Sith ability she’d learned several years ago (although she’s never been very skilled at it).

The meditation she’s about to enter is, she  _ thinks, _ a Jedi technique--but Dooku had been a Jedi once, and so it only makes  _ sense _ that he’d teach her not just the Sith way, but also those Jedi techniques that are useful. It enables her to reduce her Force-signature down to the size of an  _ atom, _ and see--and manipulate--the universe at the molecular level… but it requires  _ immense _ concentration. And maintaining it long enough to get all the poison neutralized  _ and _ see how much of the damage she can heal is going to be… hard.

Hopefully she doesn’t pass out before she’s done.

Ca’tra presses her hand to the bloody hole in the back of Scratch’s neck, which looks like a puncture from one of Trench’s legs to the uneducated--but she can see the teeth marks down in the flesh itself. There’s still blood oozing from the punctures, too-thin and pale, and she’d bet his gums are pale too. His breathing is labored and fast and his eyes won’t quite focus, and  _ shavit, shavit, shavit. _ It’s advanced far. The bite being this close to his brain is  _ bad, _ too--the poison would’ve traveled up his spinal cord, directly into his brain. She swallows hard, relays this information to Kix, and then she takes a deep breath and sinks into the Force.

The Light is all around her, and her instinct is to reach for the cold, choking Dark, but she stifles that, instead surrounds herself with  _ warmth _ and  _ safety _ and peace, and she reaches out (it’s easy, almost), touches Scratch’s mind, floods him with peace and comfort, blows away his anxiety.

And then she turns her ‘eyes’ inward, to her own self, to her Force-signature, and she makes herself  _ small, _ collapses down, down, down, until she’s  _ nothing, _ until everything is atoms and molecules and glowing white-gold chemical bonds and ions, and she drifts forward on the currents of the Force into a river of cells, red and white blood cells, platelets, water and salts and proteins. There’s something  _ dark _ and oily and cloying, and she follows it to a bundle of atoms that  _ does not belong, _ wrong wrong wrong. Concentrates on the Force around her, reaches into the darkness and  _ unknits _ it, atom by atom, snaps the bonds holding molecules together. Draws the atoms  _ up, _ through the porous net of cells that is  _ skin, _ lets them dissipate into the air, harmless.

And then she seeks out the next molecule of poison.

It’s spread all through his blood; Ca’tra follows every single vein and artery and capillary in his body, chasing down the  _ wrong, _ the awful toxin that doesn’t  _ belong, _ moves as quickly as she can without missing a single atom, because even though  _ time _ is meaningless here, the ticking of a chrono, the flashing of numbers on a black screen--they mean nothing to atoms, to the fabric of the universe--time does affect the larger world, and she  _ must _ destroy the poison faster than it spreads or she will never succeed. She can focus on  _ fixing _ things  _ later, _ after the threat--eliminate the threat. Eliminate the threat, that’s what Elle always says, eliminate the threat and clean up  _ after. _

So Ca’tra eliminates the threat, doesn’t want to know how long this is taking, isn’t sure she could even comprehend it. She can  _ vaguely _ feel exhaustion, but that is too large to comprehend, right now, she can’t wrap her mind around anything greater than  _ atoms _ and  _ molecules _ and  _ dark-wrong _ poison. Everything becomes a rhythm: seek out the dark, pull the molecules apart bit by bit (just enough Force behind the pull to snap the bonds, not enough to cause  _ backlash, _ to send foreign compounds bouncing haphazardly through blood vessels, not enough to cause a chemical reaction); hold the molecules in place, separate them into atoms, into ions, hold each and every one steady until she’s tugged everything into its component parts, and then she sends them  _ up _ through skin (it doesn’t look like skin, doesn’t feel like skin, feels like layers and layers and layers of cells with tiny gaps in between, tiny enough for atoms to pass through, and she maneuvers each atom of neutralized poison through the atom-sized gaps between cells until it’s safely  _ out). _ Seek out the next. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

And then, and then, there is no more darkness.

No more poison.

But there’s  _ so much damage, _ tissues that’ve been almost entirely killed from lack of oxygen, and the  _ brain _ is… if she weren’t so  _ small, _ she might’ve been able to be feel  _ horror. _ Instead, there’s just the sense of  _ fixing, _ of something she can adjust, and it’s  _ hard, _ it’s  _ so so hard. _ If she pulls the wrong thing, if she rebuilds too much of a protein, she could destroy  _ everything, _ but. But the Force knows healing, and though all she has ever known is Dark, is destruction and death and  _ pain, _ the Force is warm and soft around her, is Light and peace and life, and it directs her where to pull, where to push, what to build, what to destroy. She has to destroy some dead tissues, beyond repair, so that she can reuse the very atoms, the cells, that make them up, so she can rebuild other parts of the brain, of the heart, of the lungs and liver. Eyes need repairing, and she does her best, but if she was  _ bigger _ she’d be afraid he’ll be partially blind for the rest of his life. Muscles are weak, too weak, some already atrophying, and she pumps blood full of oxygen pulled from the air outside, does everything she can, everything the Force says she can, to rebuild these muscle tissues, to push back the onset of paralysis. Rejoining nerves and twisting muscle fibers back together, snapping ions together with enough Force and force to create a spark of electricity, to restart lost electrical activity in neurons. 

_ Enough, ad’ika, _ the Force tells her, and it takes too long to understand. The Force is pulling back, pulling away, not showing her what needs  _ fixing, _ and she refuses to let go. Hangs on tight with every ounce of will she has ever possessed, with the strength that enabled her to  _ be silent _ when everything burned and she wanted  _ death _ instead of this pain, and she tells the Force,  **_no._ **

_ No. I will not surrender. Only when everything is healed.  _

_ You will burn yourself. _

_ Don’t give a shit. Let me see. _

The Force feels… almost  _ shocked, _ but it relents, gives in, and she returns to her task. She  _ has _ to fix this. Has to--

**_Ca’tra!_ **

There’s a voice. A familiar voice. Full of intent and command and--desperation? It’s… it’s. She doesn’t quite know, she’s too small, she--

_ Ca’tra,  _ **_enough,_ ** and there’s Force behind it, and force, and she loses her hold on the fibers she’s knitting together, feels the atoms slipping away, away, she can’t grasp them, and she needs to  _ concentrate, _ but--

Something  _ shoves _ her off-balance before she can get her laser-sharp focus back, and with a sharp cry she tumbles out of the molecules, out of blood and bone and muscle and skin, into air, oxygen-nitrogen-carbon dioxide, into  _ herself, _ expands, the Force tremoring around her, and--

The Force drains away from her, feels like warmth being sucked straight from her very bones, and she’s shivering, the strength holding her muscles locked in place  _ gone, _ and she barely manages to pull her bloody palm back from Scratch’s neck before she collapses--into Kix. She can’t  _ see, _ can’t muster the energy to open her eyes, but she  _ knows him, _ would know him anywhere.

_ “Sleep, _ Ca’tra,” he says, and that… that sounds nice. Very nice, really.

She hums a little, tries to project gratitude (though she’s not sure she succeeds), and then she lets the Force rise up and swallow her whole.

~~~

At first, when Ca’tra slips into the Force, it just feels like she’s  _ gone _ , totally, and Kix has to remember he promised he  _ wouldn’t distract her _ . Then he focuses in on the Force, says  _ show me? _ and the Force does, lets him feel Ca’tra, tiny and barely a presence at all, needle-sharp focus and uses of the Force so minute that he doesn’t understand half of it. He tries to pay attention anyway, leaves a hand on her shoulder and blankets Light over Scratch’s bunk because his  _ vod _ is anxious and Ca’tra’s reaching through his blood and Kix can’t keep track of her.

Everything feels  _ slow _ , and Kix can’t help, which means just standing for moments that just crawl past, and then he feels and hears the medbay door open, anxiety and fast talking and footsteps and he senses Jedi, General Kenobi and Caleb some of them, and they are  _ not kriffing _ disturbing his patients right now. He leaves Ca’tra to work, although he doesn’t totally want to, strides away from the bunk to see Kenobi, Caleb, and also General Windu and Master Yoda - all looking very concerned.

He marches over to General Windu and plants himself in their way, crossing his arms. “You need something, sir?” he snaps, because this is  _ his _ medbay and everything is very sensitive at the moment and Echo’s going to panic if they aren’t careful and they  _ can’t distract Ca’tra _ .

“The apprentice,” General Windu says. “What is she  _ doing? _ ”

“None of your kriffing concern,” Kix says, which isn’t wise (and Kenobi sighs) but he couldn’t care less. “Scratch has been poisoned, she’s dealing with it.”

Kenobi frowns, steps forward quickly, the kid staying awkwardly at his shoulder. “Is he going to be alright- should I help?”

“You can help by staying  _ out of her way _ ,” Kix says, more aimed at Windu and Yoda than at Kenobi.

“The Art of the Small, she has mastered,” Yoda says, surprise in his croaky voice. “Impressive.” He frowns a little, and Kix resists the urge to literally kick the tiny master out of his medbay because he doesn’t trust him to keep his meddling fingers out of their business.

“Yeah, it’s impressive,” he says, and he  _ feels _ Generals Windu and Kenobi get shocked at his tone. “So let her  _ work _ .” The Force hums a little, says,  _ Calm, little one _ , and he scowls but eases back.

“Very well,” General Windu says, teeth audibly gritting together. He finds a plastoid chair, settles it on the floor, and sits down as if he isn’t intensely out of place here. Kix drags over a chair for Yoda, plunks it down next to Windu’s. He avoids Caleb, because he realizes his snapping hasn’t been helping the boy; he lets Kenobi worry about that.

“You can get close enough to see better,” he tells the General, “but just… don’t kriff it up, sir.”

“I know,” Kenobi says, puts his hand on Caleb’s shoulder and steers him over to Cody’s bunk. Kix hurries back over to stand behind Ca’tra, reaches back towards her in the Force enough to feel her and the hard work she’s doing, how intensely she’s focusing. He sees Kenobi talking to Cody, then the General visibly sighs and pushes Rex away from the bunk a little, fits his arms under Cody.

Cody’s got to kriffing  _ hate  _ that.

Kenobi gets himself and Cody and Caleb chairs, sits down, and Kix trusts Kenobi to make sure no one kriffs this up, settles in to pay closer attention to her, and just that, leaves just enough awareness that he can soothe Scratch.

And it all just goes  _ on _ . Kix reaches into the Force enough that it doesn’t feel as long as it is, so that he loses track of time a little until he gets a vague sense from Ca’tra that the poison is  _ gone _ , and he expects her to come back, because that was the  _ whole point of this _ , except she doesn’t. The Force isn’t humming a warning yet, and he feels her focus shift, but not waver, and he frowns, chooses not to disturb her because there’s a touch of her thought and the Force in the tissue and cells of Scratch’s brain and that’s too risky to yank her out of - and he pulls his focus back a little, reaches out with the Force to feel at Scratch’s brain himself because  _ kriff, kriff _ , he should have  _ noticed this _ except he’s just a field medic. Only the Force pulsing injury tells him that something is badly off, says  _ eyes and memory _ , and he frowns. Then he feels hints of things  _ shifting _ , and Scratch shifts and whimpers a bit, and Kix soothes him again, careful. “Sorry,  _ vod _ ,” he says quietly.

He can feel Ca’tra working through Scratch’s brain, then her sharp focus switches to his eyes and Kix pays more attention, and he didn’t know to look for any of  _ this _ , either, but he senses enough of Scratch’s anxiety and Ca’tra’s worry to realize Scratch… Scratch can’t see enough.

_ Force _ .

And it’s a long time, longer than the first space of time, of Ca’tra fixing and repairing, barely within his reach, before Kix starts sensing the Force getting reluctant, senses weariness and pain and stubbornness, and that’s not exactly  _ unfamiliar _ to him so he eases himself out of the Force, a little, checks his chrono.  _ She needs to stop _ , he says, and the Force hums with almost a defensive sound.

_ I am aware, little one _ . The Force coalesces around Ca’tra, and Kix can almost hear it speaking, but then he feels a surge of fierce stubbornness from Ca’tra and the Force’s not-quite-voice gains a heavier quality.  _ Get her out,  _ it tells him.  _ Unless you want her to burn, little one _ .

So Kix reaches far into the Force after the shape of her thoughts until he can actually feel her, latches on with a sharp,  **_Ca’tra!_ ** There’s a hint of recognition, but not enough, and the Force says  _ now, little one _ , so he grabs on tighter, cloaks his thoughts in the Force, says  _ Ca’tra,  _ **_enough_ ** **,** and the Force helps, gives him weight and strength and he ignores her  _ still _ trying to work, drags her back until she refocuses on herself and there’s a rush of emotions and feelings and pain and exhaustion as her presence snaps back to normal.

She just goes shaky, sways limply before suddenly tilting sideways and he shifts around to catch her, eases through her scattered thoughts.  **_Sleep_ ** _ , Ca’tra _ , he thinks and says, and there’s no response, just unconsciousness coming, the Force hovering in almost an  _ annoyed, anxious _ way around her frame.

_ Light _ , Kix thinks, and the Force obliges, eases warmth over him and Ca’tra and Scratch, who still doesn’t look good and is trembling but seems alright nonetheless. Kix wraps his arms around her and carefully picks her up, carries her over to the nearest bunk to lay her down, and smoothes his hand over her hair a few times.  _ And I call you clever _ , he thinks at her, although of course she can’t hear.  _ Kriffing di’kut _ . Never mind that she’s just done a more intense surgery than anything he’s ever done, karking hells. Cody catches his eye, and Kix can tell he wants to ask if Scratch is alright now, which Kix isn’t really sure except he knows there’s no more poison.

“I think you’re gonna be okay, Scratch,” he says, walking back to the bunk but nodding at General Kenobi and Cody. (There’s a small group of Jedi around General Windu now, and Kix thinks if they’ve freaked out Echo he’s going to personally poison all of  _ them _ .)

~~~

Scratch hadn’t really realized how  _ hard _ breathing had been, the past couple days, until suddenly it’s  _ not. _

He can  _ breathe, _ and not only that, but he can  _ feel _ the air in his lungs, he can actually feel like there’s  _ enough. _ It’s  _ incredible, _ and he thinks he will never take breathing for granted again.

He opens his eyes when Kix speaks, even though that makes him wince, because there’s still a strange, aching, tingling sensation all over his body, and--

_ Fuzzy. _

Everything is  _ fuzzy. _

He blinks, but nothing  _ changes, _ his vision doesn’t clear, he can make out shapes and colors but everything’s distorted, and he lets out a faint whimper. “Kix, my  _ eyes,” _ he says faintly, and he’s breathing too fast again, fuzzy fuzzy fuzzy, and he forces his eyes closed and presses his face into his pillow and tries to  _ calm. _ He has to, has to calm. Be calm.  _ Be _ calm. Thinking is, hard, everything feels  _ jumbled _ and he can’t quite remember what’s wrong with him.

“Scratch,” a voice says, familiar and soothing and warm, washes over him like--like [blue-black-cold-wet-rage-storm]. The voice feels like commanding, feels like power and protection and orders, feels like  _ Jedi. _ “Scratch, it’s going to be alright.”

Who, what, he can’t put a name to the voice but he knows he  _ should, _ he should. He should  _ remember. _ Why can’t he remember? “Sir,” he gasps out, “my head--I can’t remember,” and there’s a hand gentle on the back of his head.

“It’s General Kenobi,” the voice says, and good, right, that’s it, yes, Scratch  _ knows _ that name, but when he tries to keep it in his head it slips away like [soft-coarse-grains-brown-hot] through his fingers, and the tighter he tries to hold on the faster it falls. “Is Obi-Wan easier to remember?”

He’s not sure.  _ Obi-Wan, _ he thinks to himself, repeats the word over and over again, matches it to the voice, to the feeling, to  _ Jedi _ and  _ command _ and  _ protection. _ To  _ leader. _ Yes, yes, he thinks this will work. “‘Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah.” Can’t  _ think, _ can’t focus. “What’s--” not-right “--happening to me, Obi-Wan?” It feels  _ not-right _ to use a name instead of the title he can’t recall, but he can’t--he--no. No no no.

“It appears whatever poison was in your bloodstream was depriving your body of oxygen,” Obi-Wan says gently. “You suffered serious brain damage. Ca’tra was able to repair much of it, but I’m afraid you’ll never totally recover.”

He almost can’t  _ understand. _ Brain damage? Never recover? The words don’t make  _ sense, _ bounce around his skull until he wants to scream, and he  _ chokes, _ says, “My eyes, sir, everything’s fuzzy, I can’t--”

“We can get glasses for you,” Obi-Wan soothes. “You’ll be able to see well enough to work.”

He wants to, to, save. Heal. “I want to save them,” he says, hoarse, and he finds he is [dampness on cheeks-grief-too much-pain-anger-fear-shaking shoulders]. “Please, Obi-Wan, my, my,” and he  _ can’t remember the word _ and he wants to scream [blood-bone-soul-spirit-bond-one-all-aliit]. “My  _ aliit,” _ that’s the closest word, the closest one, family, clan, blood,  _ what are they his men his squad his family, _ he chokes on panic and horror and sick [twisting-revulsion-embarrassed-no-can’t-sorry].

It  _ hurts. _

He wants the word back, needs it back, but he can’t  _ find it _ and somebody’s saying something about a sedative but that’s not what he needs, he needs the  _ word, _ the one for his family, his men, he protects them and they protect him and, and, and--

pinch in his arm

then 

nothing 

at 

all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Art of the Small** is a fascinating method of melding oneself with the Force. Under meditation, a Jedi's Force presence is shrunk to that of a single atom, allowing for an unprecedented degree of stealth as well as allowing for a perception of the universe on a molecular scale. Using telekinesis in this state allows Jedi to eliminate toxins and cure certain ailments in others as well as in themselves by constructing healthy proteins and rebuilding cells. --"Advanced Force Techniques", _The Jedi Path_ , pg. 131
> 
>  **Force injury** is an Alter ability that's the reverse side of Force healing, and is considered a Jedi ability. it is used by the Sith to injure and cause pain and even death from a great distance. (also from _The Jedi Path_ )
> 
> **Mando'a translations:**
> 
> _dha werda:_ dark light, shadows, darkness
> 
>  _tracinya'ika:_ little flame
> 
>  _shev'la:_ silent
> 
>  _akaan:_ war
> 
>  _kyr'am:_ death
> 
>  _ad'ika:_ little one
> 
>  _riduur:_ spouse
> 
>  _sarad'ika:_ little flower
> 
>  _tracinya:_ flame
> 
>  _ik'aad:_ baby
> 
>  _jehaate:_ lies
> 
>  _su cuy'gar:_ hello, lit. "you're still alive"
> 
>  _ner'verd:_ my soldier/warrior
> 
>  _ner'tracinya:_ my flame/fire


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we've had this chapter written for easily 3 weeks, but we couldn't figure out how to end it until now. sorry to keep you all waiting! we'd love to hear what you think.

Obi-Wan helps Kix move Ca’tra to her old bunk for the time being, then goes straight back to Scratch’s bunk and pulls his chair right up to his bunk with Cody. He’d told Caleb he could leave if wanted, early on, but the boy hadn’t gone, so he sits with them too while Kix goes to tell Captain Rex and the rest of their small squad what’s happened.

Obi-Wan is impressed with Ca’tra, with her use of the Force - he’d taken a couple years to master anything close to what she’s just done, and he doesn’t think he could do something that extensive himself. (But he should have noticed, should have  _ tried _ , he could have done  _ something _ , told them when he got back, but he didn’t  _ see _ .)

Kix comes back over with a squad trooping behind him, and Obi-Wan senses Caleb’s anxiety spike, sets his hand on his shoulder. He glances back and sees what is essentially the entire Jedi Council and Anakin getting up off of chairs (or in some cases, the floor) and making their way over to them, and Obi-Wan can’t deny that part of him wants to imitate Kix and tell them all to  _ back off _ . Anakin comes over to him, claps a hand on his shoulder, and Obi looks up and gives him a wry smile.

“That was… most impressive,” Mace says, begrudgingly, and Kix scowls a little.

“Yeah,” he says, going to work on Scratch’s bandages; checking, Obi would guess, to see if he needs to change them. “Yeah, I didn’t know she could do that.”

“It takes  _ years _ to master something of that scale,” Mace adds, like he’s trying to convince Kix of Ca’tra’s accomplishment - not that he needs to. “The focus and precision required-” He takes a step forward, and Kix spins, shakes his head.

“Stay  _ back _ , I  _ told _ you.” Never mind that Obi-Wan and Cody and the troopers and Anakin are all much closer to Scratch than the Council is, still. Obi turns and shrugs at Mace a little apologetically, although personally he’s glad. “I saw what she was doing, I know it was amazing.”

Obi-Wan thinks Kix feels defensive of Ca’tra, which is perfectly reasonable - Obi himself feels a bit as if he has to stand up for her, too. Even though he thinks his fellow Councillors are going to be singing a different tune now. Master Tiin looks reluctantly interested, which Obi-Wan suspects is the best they’re going to get out of him.

Kix goes back to working on Scratch’s bandages, muttering to himself, and Obi wishes he could help. He doesn’t know much about field medicine, just the barest necessities for emergencies, but Scratch needs him (has needed him) and all he’s been able to do for him thus far is kill Admiral Trench, a weak apology at  _ best _ . Not something that could save Scratch’s eyes and memories and whatever else has gone wrong.

“Most unusual, this situation is,” Master Yoda says, nodding sagely. “Unexpected.”

“Not to me,” Kix snaps. He starts peeling off Scratch’s bandages and Obi-Wan notes his hands are shaking. Captain Rex and Tuck go up behind him, and Tuck takes over while Rex pulls him back a few steps, makes him sit down. Obi thinks he should offer to do some Force healing on Scratch’s injuries; he’d done some, before they brought him in, but that’s something, at least, that he could do  _ now _ .

He gets up and goes over to Tuck, leans against the bunk. “I’m going to do some healing for him, if that’s alright,” he says, and Tuck glances at Kix, who nods. That’s good, that will help, so Obi rests his fingers against Scratch’s back and reaches into the Force, starts knitting tissues and skin back together in his back. Not enough, but  _ something _ . He will have to thank Ca’tra later.

~~~

Cody holds himself still, still as stone, still as steel, in his too-hard plastoid chair, hands on his knees. Carefully controls his breathing, in and hold and out and hold and repeat. Can't look away from Scratch limp and pale on the bunk like a wet rag, from his General with his hands outstretched over the medic’s back, deeply focused.

Scratch doesn't _ panic. _ Ever. But there'd been panic in his voice when he couldn't find the word for _ brothers. _

And that is, as so many things are, Cody’s fault.

(He is careless. He pays too much attention to scanning the shadows for Trench, expecting the admiral to appear from out of nowhere again, from behind, from where their guard is weak. He forgets to watch for incoming blaster bolts--a mistake he hasn't made since he was a shiny. He is shot twice in the leg, once in the knee and once in the ankle, and his leg buckles, and there is _ pain. _ His General tells him later he'd wanted to come get Cody, but because of his still-healing chest wound he was forbidden. Scratch comes in instead, drops to his knees and starts swearing at Cody about carelessness, poking at his knee and ankle, and kriff that hurts, and when he first sees the glint of light on metal he thinks it's because of the pain. But then Trench comes, and he can't get the warning out in time, and the admiral shreds through the shitty Phase Two armor on Scratch’s back like paper and Cody doesn't have the breath to even _ scream, _ he pulls his blaster and aims and fires and prays he doesn't hit his _ vod _ and the bolt shorts out Trench’s cybernetic eye and he falls back and the General is _ here, _ and Cody still cannot breathe but he crawls to where the medic is crumpled and drags himself somehow upright and half-carries, half-drags Scratch to safety.)

There will, of course, be the same useless platitudes: “it wasn't your fault” and “you couldn't have known” and “he was just doing his job”. And Cody will not smile, and he will nod, and he will clench his fists to keep from punching these fools who know nothing of the guilt of nearly killing your own brother. Just like he did after Order 66, when there were many Jedi and politicians who weren't even _ present _ who promised his General wouldn't blame him, that everyone knew it was just the chips; Cody had wanted to snarl.  _ He may not blame me, but I blame myself. It was still my hand that pulled the trigger. _

There are conversations occurring around him, and by the icy tones of the Councillors he thinks they are not pleasant, but he doesn't listen. He watches his _ vod, _ one of the only ones left who has worn the 212th orange from the beginning, and stays _ still. _ Even when Rex rests a hand on his shoulder, squeezes; Cody does not move,  _ cannot _ move.

Because if he moves, he just might shatter.

~~~

Kix wants the kriffing Jedi Council to leave his medbay and stop pretending they've ever cared about Ca’tra. All of them being so  _ thrilled  _ to find she did something that wasn’t Dark, never mind everything he and Kenobi had said before, never mind she’s been nothing but cooperative this entire time, never mind that they never bothered to  _ ask  _ what she could do.

General Windu at  _ least _ has the sense to talk to him about it and be respectful. “I wonder if I could speak to her,” he says, looking between Kenobi and Kix. “I want to know how she did that - she’s a talented Force user. There’s more she could learn.”

Kix smiles sardonically, because there’s only one answer  _ that _ question deserves, but Brii beats him to it, the kid stepping forward with the most bitter scowl Kix has  _ ever _ seen on his gentle face, crossing his arms. None of Domino stops him, but then neither does Kix, as he says, “You care about her  _ now? _ ” and if that isn’t what they’re all thinking, Kix’ll eat his blasters. “That’s really sweet, sirs, since you never bothered to show up here before.”

Kenobi twists around, very quickly, sending Kix a look like  _ for Force’s sake shut him up _ , but Kix… Kix doesn’t exactly want to. Rex steps up behind Brii’s shoulder but he doesn’t actually tell him to be quiet either, and this might have been a long time coming.

The Councillors all seem taken aback that a clone (and Brii of all people, for that matter, although none of them would know to care about that) has just decided to take them to task for their hypocrisy. Not that  _ they’ll  _ define it like that.

“Excuse me,” General Windu says, icily, “That is not what’s happening here, trooper.”

“You can  _ say _ that,” Brii snorts. “But it’s just bullshit so you can sound like I’m the one being unreasonable.”

“He’s not wrong,” Rex growls, and Brii glances back at him like he hadn’t had any idea Rex was there. Kix ignores the look on Kenobi’s face (because Kenobi looks like he’s watching an explosion happening too far away for him to do anything about it) and goes to stand by Brii and his Captain, the rest of Domino emulating them.

“It’s not that we didn’t care,” General Mundi says, and Kix has to fight not to scoff at that. “We have many issues to oversee, trooper.”

“If you cared, tell me how she was able to go two whole days without interacting without another sentient,” Kix says wryly, because he almost isn’t sure why it’s important to any of them whether the Council cares or not - it’s just that they  _ made _ them, it’s partly their fault the clones have been through what they have. They wanted to expel Ahsoka for struggling, let Rex nearly be reconditioned, don’t want Miik to be a Jedi, questioned and frightened Ca’tra when they should have been trying to  _ help _ , and now they have the audacity to come here and pretend they  _ care _ . “You made her answer all your kriffing stupid questions while she was barefoot and tired, never mind that she was kriffing  _ scared _ . You’re supposed to be compassionate, and peacekeepers, isn’t that right?” He curls his lip a little, can actually  _ see _ the Jedi trying to formulate responses, and pushes ahead before they can. “Well, you’re kriffing  _ terrible _ at it.”

General Fisto actually gapes at him. General Windu looks  _ exhausted _ , like he’s no longer even surprised. And General Tiin... Kix wants to punch General Tiin in his heavy, stupid face.

“Someone who needs your help shouldn’t be afraid of you,” Brii says, sharply.

General Tiin rumbles out a frustrated sound, tucking his hands into his sleeves. “Who are you,” he says, giving their whole group a raking glare, “to lecture the Jedi Council?”

“The ones who are dying for you,” Rex snarls, simply. “Might as well pretend to be listening, for once.”

Kix smiles a little, because this situation is far from funny, but it feels kriffing  _ good _ . He glances back at Scratch and Kenobi and Cody again, then turns to the Council. “While you were busy talking about philosophy and letting Ca’tra forget to  _ eat _ , General Kenobi was on the field with his men trying to protect them. General Skywalker’s been visiting Echo every  _ day _ .” He can tell half the Council doesn’t even recognize the  _ name _ Echo, and that burns.

Kenobi looks very much as if he’d like to be left out of this; Skywalker gives Kix a tight, frustrated smile and steps a little away from Kenobi to stand close to Jesse.

“So maybe you can do us a favor and not patronize us by pretending you’ve ever cared two shits about someone who isn’t one of your own - sometimes not even them,” Kix says, crosses his arms.

~~~

Jak enters the medbay like a thunderstorm in summer, fierce and powerful and ominous, his helmet off and his hand resting on his vibroblade. Elle is behind him, also helmetless and upset, and for a very good reason: the _ jetiise _ had declined to inform her of whatever incredible, dangerous act her  _ vod'ika _ was doing. She'd had to hear it from gossips, which is entirely  _ unacceptable. _

He was not expecting the crowd of  _ jetiise _ he’s confronted with the moment he steps through the medbay door, all gathered around and speaking sharply to a line of  _ verde, _ Domino squad; his focus is not on them, however, but on the  _ ad’ika _ unconscious on a bunk. The  _ jetii _ Tano and the small Zygerrian  _ ad _ are both sitting on the bunk, the  _ ad _ tucked into Tano’s side, under her arm.

The  _ ad’ika, _ Ca’tra, she has grown--she had been only six when he’d been freed from chains, ten when the Kyr’tsad had failed their own  _ aliit _ and let the  _ dar’jetii _ bastard Dooku steal her. It is good she is returned to her  _ aliit,  _ at least.

“Did  _ none of you _ even consider maybe letting me know about this little powwow, here?” Elle snaps, her voice cracking like a whip, ice-sharp and  _ cold. _ “Ca’tra  _ is _ my  _ vod’ika, _ you know.”

The  _ jetiise _ jump, most of them, and a pathway opens up to those in the front. And then, then, Jak lays eyes on a figure, and his whole world  _ freezes. _

Everything crystallizes, narrows down to a single objective, and his vibroblade is out before he _blinks,_ and he points the razor-edged tip at the _jetii_ Master and _snarls._ _“You!”_

Mace Windu spins, goes very still, one hand automatically reaching for his  _ jetii’kad, _ and Jak takes several slow steps forward.

“Tell me why I should not kill you now,  _ jetii,” _ he growls, low and menacing. “For what you voted to do to me, and for what you did to my  _ Mand’alor _ on Geonosis. Give me one reason why I should not claim  _ skira _ on you.”

“Because you’ll kriffing make Echo  _ panic _ if you start fighting in here,” Kix, the  _ bar’uur, _ says angrily, and Jak  _ growls _ but--but yes. He understands.

“Very well,” he manages, and he  _ slowly _ sheaths his vibroblade, though he does not back down. The  _ jetiise _ are staring at him, at his face, like he is a monster, a beast; he lifts his chin, stares back at them,  _ dares _ them silently to speak. None of them do, and none of them can hold his gaze--except Skywalker, who gives him a tight-lipped smile (he is a strange one).

“Jak,” Windu says, and Jak jerks his head back around, sneers derisively, curls his lip. “What we did to you was wrong. Slavery is one of the great evils of the galaxy.”

He’s probably not done talking, but Jak is done listening. “If you  _ truly _ believe slavery is  _ ori’dush, _ then tell me,  _ jetii, _ why did you create an army of clones engineered to be your slaves and not question that?”

“We aren’t  _ slaves,” _ Brii bursts out, and Jak lets a tired smile curve his twisted lips.

“You are,  _ ad.” _ Jak holds his  _ ad’s _ gaze, because the young one does not  _ understand. _ “You have a good leader,” and he casts an ironic gaze at Skywalker, wonders if the  _ jetii _ understands the compliment Jak is paying him (he does, Jak thinks), “and you do not feel your chains, but they are there nonetheless.”

“Padme is working on a bill to give the clones full rights,” Skywalker says, and this is clearly the first the  _ jetiise _ have heard of this, because they give each other confused looks, frowns.

“Good,” Jak says, nods. Skywalker is one of the few good  _ jetiise. _

Not that he will ever tell the  _ jetii _ that.

~~~

Kix feels kriffing  _ sick _ . Wants to tell karking Jak Ordo  _ who does he think he is _ , wants to tell him all the reasons why he’s  _ wrong _ . What makes him think he’s any better than them, has  _ any right _ to say that? Brii looks confused, and upset, and Kix quickly touches the kid’s shoulder, tries to smile reassuringly when his  _ vod _ twists to look at him like he wants an answer that Kix doesn’t have.

Kix meets Skywalker’s eyes, and he thinks maybe his General understands that he wants to talk about something else,  _ now _ , because in true Skywalker form, he runs with the unexpected hiccup like he’s not the slightest bit bothered. “Master Tiin,” he says, and the Iktotchi asshole grunts in acknowledgement, looking very much as if he’d like to punch someone. “You asked my men who they were to lecture the Council. I’d like to know who are the Councillors are to treat them like this.”

General Tiin snorts, rolls his small eyes, but Anakin doesn’t let him say anything; he’s found something of a stride now, things to be angry about, and when their General gets angry, things always get… interesting. “You kriffing  _ sold _ Jak for the crime of surviving a massacre. You helped create an entire army of sentients and then didn’t care what happened to them after.  _ You _ ,” he says, pointing at Shaak Ti, “were  _ there _ , on Kamino, and didn’t stop  _ any  _ of the shit they did there. You all sent us to infiltrate Zygerria in the karking  _ stupidest _ mission I’ve ever been on and then you didn’t even care that we all went through  _ hells _ to get it done - until my  _ Padawan _ seemed like she might be dangerous to you.” Kix thinks, from Anakin’s tone, that he’s thought all this for a very, very long time. “You didn’t even try to listen to her! You failed my Padawan and then you failed my men. It’s your own  _ karking fault _ Order 66 worked  _ again _ -” and Kix flinches, feels Jesse grab his shoulder a little like he needs help focusing, “-because if you’d just  _ listened _ it all would have been fine.”

“Skywalker-” Yoda begins, and Kix understands why; there’s a Darkness swirling around his General, pain and frustration and  _ anger _ , but the Force hums like  _ let it be _ .

Anakin shakes his head sharply. “You just keep karking making excuses,” he snarls, “and there are still kriffing slavers everywhere and the clones don’t get a say in anything and we’re all just supposed to ‘release it all into the Force,’ right?” Kix doesn’t even think Anakin notices he’s taken a few steps forward, the Force drawn tight and crackling around him, and still the old, old voice just hums  _ let it be _ . “Masters and friends and family die and we’re just supposed to  _ let it go _ , right? You kriffing-” He stops, almost strangled, then snarls, “You  _ left my mom _ a slave, and she  _ died _ , but the fact that I hate that, that I  _ miss her _ , is a karking  _ fault  _ of mine, just like Miik isn’t good enough for you because he gives a shit what happens to his  _ family _ .” Anakin’s breathing fast, and Kenobi comes over to him, quick, puts his hand on his shoulder. Not like he wants him to calm down, like he wants him to know he’s there.

And Kix feels a hint of pain, then exhaustion slams through Ca’tra’s corner of his mind like a tank and he reluctantly leaves General Kenobi and Rex to worry about his General, pushes past Jesse to hurry over to Ca’tra’s bunk and reassure her that he’s there, because there is too much happening in his medbay right now for her to wake up to alone.

~~~

Ca’tra has always, always been good at throwing off Force-suggestions; Kix’s order to  _ sleep _ is no exception, even though she’s  _ exhausted, _ because it’s not in her nature to just  _ let _ others tell her what to do. 

Still, the first thing she registers upon clawing her way out of the blackness of unconsciousness is that her head is  _ killing _ her. It  _ hurts, _ and that’s what makes her think perhaps she’s pushed a bit far, but--but she doesn’t regret it, and she’d do it again. Still, it kriffing  _ hurts, _ and she curls in on herself a little instinctively, keeps her eyes pressed closed and tries to keep her breaths slow, even. Maybe it’ll reduce the pain a little.

(She almost would rather be asleep.)

In the next moment, there’s a sense of  _ someone’s here, _ and a hand presses into her shoulder--she almost flinches, but she recognizes the Force-signature as  _ Kix, _ and so instead she thinks  _ I have a headache _ at him and keeps her eyes closed.

_ I know, I can tell, _ Kix thinks back, hums,  _ You should go back to sleep. _

**_No,_ ** she snaps, frustrated.  _ I’m  _ **_fine,_ ** _ and I don’t  _ **_like_ ** _ Force-suggestions. _ And  _ ow, _ she should  _ not _ think that hard, because  _ kriff _ it hurts.

_Alright,_ _I’m sorry, mirdala,_ he says, and she can feel genuine apology, but also determination. _But you’re_ ** _going_** _to lay still. I’ll get you some painkillers for the headache, just a minute._

His hand leaves her shoulder (and she tries not to mourn the loss), and Ca’tra thinks, wearily, that she doesn’t think  _ laying still _ is going to be much of a problem. No matter that she  _ doesn’t want to sleep, _ not with all the  _ jetiise _ in the medbay (she can hear their voices, can feel the anger and pain and frustration and a swirl of negative emotions, and--); she’s still  _ tired, _ tired enough she’s not sure she  _ can _ get up right now.

And there’s a familiar Force-signature in the medbay.

Kix comes back with the painkillers and some water, and she manages to crack her eyes open and look up at him, offer him a wan smile that’s probably more of a grimace. He sighs, shakes his head, projects general displeasure--but he hands her the pills and the cup of water, slips an arm behind her shoulders to prop her upright enough she can swallow.

Once he’s taken the water back from her, set it down, she tugs on his arm a little, taps the bunk, and he gets the memo, eases down to sit on the edge of the bunk. She leans her forehead into his leg, closes her eyes again, even though he has his armor on still, thinks,  _ Elle? _

“Yeah, she’s here,” Kix says, one of his hands coming to rest in her hair. “I can have her come over if you want?”

_ Yeah, _ she thinks, but he moves to stand up and she frowns.  _ Don’t go, Kix, please? _

~~~

_ Cyar’ika _ , Kix thinks, lightly,  _ how am I supposed to get Elle if I don’t get up? _ Elle’s paying attention to Jak for the moment, which Kix thinks is wise; it just means she’s not looking their way so he can’t so much wave her over. He does understand, though, why she doesn’t want him to go anywhere.

_ Get someone else to get her, _ she thinks, and fair enough, so Kix beckons a very anxious-looking junior medic over to the bunk, nods at Elle and Jak.

“I need you to get that Mandalorian in blue and gold armor over here,” he says, pointing at Elle. “And remember to breathe,  _ vod _ .” He can’t help the slightly ironic smile, because the poor medic hasn’t been around here long enough to know how to deal with this sort of thing. Hells, Kix isn’t sure  _ he _ has been.

The medic nods, marches over to Elle and Jak almost like he’s marching into a fight - which, honestly, isn’t far off from the truth. Kix can see Master Yoda talking to Anakin, which reminds him of his earlier desire to kick the little green troll out of his medbay, stupid ears and all. Ca’tra suddenly snorts and starts giggling, looking up at him and wrinkling her nose. And despite everything, Kix can’t help but grin at her.

_ I think I could literally kick him out of the medbay, physically, _ he thinks, pretending to give it serious thought.  _ I doubt he’d let me, though _ .

Ca’tra shakes her head at him, and he thinks he’s distracted her at least a little, so he keeps at it.  _ Anakin started yelling at the Jedi and you should have seen Master Tiin’s face _ . He sends her the memory, of the stupid Iktotchi looking like someone had hit him in the face with a brick.

_ I don’t like him,  _ Ca’tra says, seriously, and Kix nods.

_ Yeah. Me neither. Wonder if I could kick  _ **_him_ ** _ out of my medbay. _ He’d sure as kriff like to give it a try.

Elle comes storming over with her hand wrapped around Jak’s upper arm (and he doesn’t look particularly happy about that, but then Kix has only seen Jak smile a couple times), shoves him toward a plastoid chair, says, “Sit the  _ kriff _ down and don’t kriff anything else up.” She holds Ca’tra’s gaze the whole time, like  _ just wait till I get to you _ , and Kix considers fleeing back to his squad because he at least trusts them not to punch him in the face.

~~~

Elle looks  _ angry. _

Ca’tra thinks she’s pretty sure  _ why, _ too (though she’s sad she missed whatever Jak did to get  _ that _ level of glare)--she looks over at Jak and smiles tentatively.  _ Hi, Cerar. _ He can’t hear her, of course, but Kix can, and he sends an impression that’s something like  _ mountain??? _ She grimaces a little, flashes the memory at him: her tiny, six-year-old self meeting a newly-rescued Jak Ordo for the first time, and proceeding to declare him to be a  _ literal mountain. _ The nickname had stuck.

“Stop smiling,” Elle snaps, “I’m  _ kriffing pissed _ at you,  _ vod’ika. _ What the  _ kriffing hells _ were you  _ thinking?” _

Ca’tra frowns, thinks,  _ Kix, please tell her what I’m saying, _ and then she says,  _ I was thinking that I had the power and the knowledge to save a life, and so it was my responsibility. _ Kix repeats the words, though he winces a little, and she  _ watches _ the words hit home. Elle goes pale, presses her lips together--the words are a reminder of their parents, the lessons they’d managed to pass on before their deaths, and… and it’s a painful thing for both of them, but. But true.

“Kriff you,” Elle finally says, and then she stabs a finger at Kix. “And kriff  _ you _ for letting her be a  _ di’kut.” _

Kix shrugs a little, says, “Have you ever tried to stop her when she’s got her mind set on something?” which is  _ offensive, _ what the actual kriff?

_ “Hey,” _ she protests faintly, and Elle’s head  _ snaps _ around to stare at her--Ca’tra flushes and drops her eyes, because  _ oops, _ she hadn’t meant to say that out  _ loud, _ there’s too many  _ jetiise _ and it’s not  _ safe, _ but…  _ That’s not  _ **_fair,_ ** _ Kix! _

Kix rolls his eyes, hums,  _ oh,  _ **_please,_ ** and she sighs. Glares at him.

She’s kriffing going to  _ punch him _ if he keeps saying stuff like that.  _ Kriffing mir’sheb, _ she thinks, and he has the nerve to  _ laugh. _ At  _ her. _ Oh, she’s  _ definitely _ going to punch him--later, when she’s not  _ tired. _

“Mind letting the rest of us in on the joke?” Elle asks, pointedly, mostly seeming to be over her shock, and Ca’tra just sticks her tongue out at her  _ ori’vod. _

_ Ha, ha. _

“How long am I to  _ sit the kriff down?” _ Jak grumbles, irritably. “Have you forgotten I  _ outrank _ you, Elle?”

Which is… not the right thing to say to Elle in this kind of mood, Ca’tra knows. Elle  _ spins, _ stabs a threatening finger at the older  _ verd, _ says sharply, “I don’t give a mynock’s  _ ass _ if you  _ outrank _ me or not, you’re being a kriffing  _ utreekov. Shebe daab bal ne’johaa.” _

Jak, wisely, sits down and shuts up.

~~~

_ Your sister scares me, _ Kix thinks at Ca’tra, making her snicker.

_ She scares a lot of people, _ she tells him, mental voice tinged with mischief.  _ It doesn't make you hut’unn. _

_ Well, I wasn't worried about that, but thanks, _ Kix grumbles, smoothing his hand over her hair without really thinking about it. Then he realizes both Elle and Jak have zeroed in on the gesture and he eases his hand back to rest it on his leg.  _ You... You did a good thing, mirdala. And I thought  _ **_I_ ** _ was a good surgeon. _

Ca'tra hums at him in annoyance, thinks an impression of  _ oh come on _ , and Kix reluctantly sets his hand back against her hair as casually as he can manages, trying to ignore how Jak's gaze sharpens.

_ I should have done more - I can do more, _ she tells him, feeling anxious.

**_No_ ** **.** Kix can feel she already wants to go to work on Scratch again, which is not going to happen.  _ You did so much already, tracinya. You saved his life. General Kenobi and I can worry about him for now. You need rest. _

He feels she's not happy with that, and she wants to finish what he started, so he glares warningly down at her, narrowing his eyes, because if she tries anything…

_ He needs me, Kix, I could help, _ she thinks, nearly sharply, and he crosses his arms pointedly.

_ Kriffing no. Kenobi and I know enough to help him until you aren't so exhausted _ , he says, indicating her headache.

~~~

Ca’tra knows from experience that the longer the damage lingers, the harder it will be to repair, as the brain gets used to the new pathways--Dooku had told her that, an important thing to remember when reconfiguring someone’s mind. If she  _ waits _ to try and complete the healing, she might not be able to fix anything else.

But when she reaches for the Force, in that way Kix has been teaching her, it hums gently and shifts just out of her grasp.  _ Nayc, ad’ika, _ it says, and a part of her wonders if it’s speaking in Mando’a for her sake or its own. _ Not now. _ And, even though she’s loath to admit it, she thinks the Force is probably right--she’s not sure she could  _ concentrate _ enough to hold the meditation, with how much her head hurts and how exhausted she is.

Still. It’s the principle of the thing.

_ Fine, _ she snaps, though she makes sure to impress upon him the full extent of her displeasure.  _ Put your hand back? _

Kix does, after giving her another stern look, and she smiles up at him. There’s still an undercurrent of anxiety humming through her blood--she does not like the  _ jetiise, _ doesn’t trust them, and as long as so many of them are in the medbay (especially the Councillors, who--with the notable exception of Master Kenobi--have been nothing but hostile to her), she  _ knows _ she’s not going to be able to relax much. But with Kix and Elle and Jak all here, at least, so she can breathe, she can smile, she can laugh a little; she can trust her  _ aliit _ to keep her safe.

…

Jak can still remember, with startling clarity, the first time he’d met Ca’tra Cadera. Pre Vizla had administered enough medical treatment on the hyperspace journey from Utapau to Concordia that Jak had been able to walk with minimal pain. Elle--who, he’d later learned, was the one to find him and lobby to break him out--had led him down the ship’s ramp, out into the mining colony hiding the  _ Kyr’tsad _ base of operations, and he’d barely taken his first breath of Mandalorian air when a young girl’s voice shouted,  _ ori’vod! You’re back! _

The girl--with her long black hair a tangled mess and her hazel eyes bright--had looked almost too small to be six years old, had looked  _ fragile _ and  _ breakable _ and  _ precious, _ and so very innocent, and Jak had worn no helmet, no mask to hide his disfigured face. He had seen her and been unable to keep her from studying him, and he had waited for a cry of terror, for a shout of  _ monster, _ but instead the little one had walked boldly up to him, measured her height relative to his, looked at his size (even malnourished and overworked, he still had retained a measure of his previous muscle build)--and then she had, cheerfully, proclaimed him to be a  _ cerar,  _ a veritable  _ mountain, _ and then said he must be a very good warrior, to have such a  _ cool _ scar.

He can also still remember the day, a few months later, when he had knelt before her and said,  _ Ni kar’tayl gai sa’ad, Ca’tra, _ formally adopting her, and she had thrown her skinny arms around his neck and  _ hugged him. _ No one had hugged him in  _ decades. _

And, of course, Jak knows he will never forget the day he failed his  _ ad, _ the day he was not there, the day Dooku had stolen her away. He  _ should have been there, _ should have died before allowing the monster to take his  _ child, _ but he had not been. He had failed her and lost her and he had never really expected to see her again, though he knew, through Elle, that she was still alive.

Now, though, his  _ ad _ is curled on a bunk,  _ smiling _ up at him, and he has missed too much of her life. Too much. And he has failed her enough in the past; he will  _ not _ allow her to be hurt again. Not on his watch.

So when his eye catches the  _ bar’uur _ repeatedly running his hand through Ca’tra’s hair, Jak grits his teeth and wonders, distantly, if he stares hard enough at the  _ bar’uur’s _ hand, can he burn the offending appendage?

When he’d told Kix he trusted him, he’d meant  _ I trust you to heal my side, _ not  _ I give you permission to accost my daughter. _ He thinks the  _ bar’uur _ and him need to have a  _ talk. _

Said talk can wait until after the  _ jetiise _ leave, however.

… no, it cannot.

_ “Bar’uur,” _ Jak says, very heavy, so the  _ bar’uur _ knows he is  _ not pleased, _ “it would be  _ mirdala _ of you to recall the last one to anger me lost half his face and died in horrible agony.”

The medic has a look of total confusion on his face, for a moment, and then Jak pointedly shifts his eye to his hand. Kix  _ blanches, _ then, understanding--rapidly pulls his hand back, though he’s attempting to at least  _ appear _ nonchalant about it, swallows and nods quickly. “Right, yeah, I--I remember.”

A little more abject terror would be  _ nice, _ but Jak supposes a removal of the  _ bar’uur’s _ hand from his  _ ad’s _ hair is sufficient. Ca’tra, of course, doesn’t seem to see it that way; she raises her eyebrows at him and  _ frowns, _ which is… not surprising, he thinks dryly, remembering his sisters during their teenage years. He  _ looks _ at her, says sternly, “Don’t talk back to me,  _ ad’ika.” _

She  _ pouts, _ makes a face, and suddenly the  _ bar’uur chokes, _ claps a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.

Jak raises his eyebrow, the one he can still raise. “Is there something  _ amusing _ about impending death?” he asks, deadpan (of  _ course _ he will never kill the  _ bar’uur, _ his  _ ad _ deserves her joy, but frightening young men is the part of  _ bajur _ he’s most looked forward to). Ca’tra starts laughing, at that, rolls her eyes and exaggeratedly mimes zipping her lips shut, pointing at him--yes, he understands, she wants him to hush--and then she pushes herself to a sitting position and leans into the  _ bar’uur’s _ side, laying her head on his shoulder.

And, despite himself, Jak has to smile a little, because it truly is amazing to see her so  _ happy. _

~~~

Technically, Kix knows that Jak wouldn't kill him. Most likely. But knowing Jak as little as he does, he knows there are many other things Jak could and would do to him.

Ca’tra doesn't seem to get why he pulls his hand away from her hair, sends him an annoyed,  _ Don't listen to him _ while glaring at Jak. Kix decides Jak’s expressions are never  _ not _ a little terrifying.

Jak narrows his eye at Ca’tra, rumbles, “Don't talk back to  _ me _ , ad’ika.”

Ca’tra makes a peeved face, says conspiratorially,  _ Well, I'm not  _ **_talking_ ** _ back, you big overprotective di’kut, _ and there's a distinct impression of her wanting to stick her tongue out.

He can't help it, he snorts, just managing to swallow some of his laugh into silence, and claps his hand over his mouth. He decides not to look at Jak, figures it would better for his health. He can't look at Ca’tra’s sassy face either, though, because if he does he'll definitely laugh.

“Is there something  _ amusing _ about impending death?” Jak says, and Kix stifles the urge to say  _ It doesn't exactly scare me, if that's what you mean. _ Ca’tra laughs at him, at Jak, makes a very clear gesture to  _ shut up, cerar, _ and sits up, leans into his side and puts her head on his shoulder, and Kix feels himself go red.

_ Force, cyar’ika, do you  _ **_want_ ** _ him to kill me in my sleep? _ Never mind that he catches the barest twitch of a smile from Jak, probably because Ca’tra is just  _ that _ cute.

_ He wouldn't _ , Ca’tra says dismissively, smiling like she thinks he's intolerably funny and a little naive.

_ Do you really know that? _ Kix is looking at Jak and he thinks it's very, very possible that the  _ alor _ might surprise them both and slit his throat. It's not  _ Kix’s  _ fault Ca’tra wants to cuddle.

Elle is looking at them with a barely more approving look on her face, gives Kix a small smile, which he thinks is good, at least. “So,” she says, almost lightly, “Seems like we missed a lot.”

Ca’tra shrugs, which is a total  _ lie _ .

“Some,” Kix says, glancing over at his General again, automatically squeezing Ca’tra’s shoulder reassuringly because the Council feels almost more agitated than they had when Brii started snapping at them and his General feels like a  _ mess _ .

~~~

Elle doesn’t look at  _ all _ mollified by Kix’s deliberately vague answer, or by Ca’tra’s own nonanswer, which… is probably wise, really. Except that Ca’tra  _ really _ doesn’t think now is the time or place to be talking about whatever her  _ ori’vod _ and  _ buir _ missed. Everything that happened in her room, last night and this morning both, feels like something  _ precious, _ something to cherish, a secret to hold tight to her chest until the right moment. 

And  _ now, _ with the medbay chock-full of angry  _ jetiise _ and  _ verde, _ is definitely  _ not _ the right moment.

“What aren’t you telling me,  _ tra’ika?” _ Elle asks, suspicious, and Ca’tra gives her a vague smile.

_ Technically, everything. _

Elle somehow always  _ knows _ when she’s being sassy, and Jak does too; they both frown at her (which is a  _ lot _ more intimidating on one face than the other, though Ca’tra has never found her  _ cerar _ to be all that scary), and Elle looks at Kix, raises an eyebrow. “What isn’t she telling me, Kix?”

Kix, Ca’tra thinks, would be  _ terrible _ at sabbac.

_ Thanks, tracinya, _ he thinks, a little sourly.

She grins at him, utterly unrepentant, and Elle clears her throat. “You two  _ do _ know that you aren’t the only people in the room, right?”

_ I wish we were, _ Ca’tra thinks, peevish,  _ then I could kiss him again. _

Kix makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, turns a particularly magnificent shade of red, and she smirks at him, enjoying herself immensely. 

Which is apparently too much for Jak. “I do not like this…  _ connection,” _ he announces, gesturing between her and Kix. “You two should not be allowed  _ unsupervised conversation.” _

_ This is it, _ Kix is thinking, less in words and more a general impression,  _ this is how I die, _ and Ca’tra can’t stop herself from laughing again.

_ Don’t worry, Kix, I’ll protect you from the big scary mountain, _ she teases lightly, and then she swallows a little, tries to pretend there’s no  _ jetiise _ around so she’s not so anxious, and then she manages to say,  _ “Ne’johaa, cerar, _ you’re--scaring him,” which is a  _ huge _ effort, but she gets all the words out without freezing.

“Good,” Jak says dismissively, but there’s warmth in his grey eye, and he smiles a bit broader at her.

~~~

Kix sends Ca’tra a projection of sharp offense, because  _ first of all _ , he does not appreciate her  _ teasing _ him like that, and  _ second of all _ , sure he’s kinda scared of Jak, but she didn’t have to  _ tell him that _ .

_ For the record _ , he thinks at her, looking at Jak as innocently and boldly as possible,  _ I’d also like to kiss you some more _ .

Ca’tra hums through their bond, says,  _ I want to go back to my room, Kix _ .

_ No. You’re staying in this bunk, and you’re  _ **_resting_ ** **,** Kix grumbles, then turns to look at Elle. “She did some intense healing for my  _ vod _ Scratch. Kriffing impressive, but she’s not allowed out of bed now.”

_ Hey! _ Ca’tra snaps at him, and he shrugs.

“She’s not exactly listening to me,” he says, and Elle narrows her eyes at Ca’tra, who in turn twists to glare up at him, offended.

_ Just shut up and let me kiss you _ , she grumbles, and he manages to control his reaction in favor of meeting her eyes, smirking.

_ Mm, no. _

_ Hmph _ . Ca’tra gives him a look that Kix  _ does not trust _ , then looks back at Elle and reaches up, casually, and skims her fingers over his tattoos again.

_ Kriff you _ , Kix thinks, face burning, and decides it’s probably best if he just looks at his knees. He can  _ feel _ Jak’s disapproval in the ambient Force, and the Force itself is kriffing  _ laughing _ .

“Tra’ika,” Elle says, dryly, “If the doctor boy says you need to rest, then you’re gonna rest. That’s what you get for pulling a stunt like that without telling me.”

“Thanks for the support,” Kix says, smiling a little, daring to meet Elle’s eyes; the  _ verd’s _ eyes are sparkling with mischief, although she looks otherwise unimpressed.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want my  _ vod’ika _ to kriffing kill herself,” Elle says, and Kix nods.

“No, can’t have that.”

Ca’tra gestures at herself, then flings her hands out to the sides, says,  _ I’m right here, you two! _

_ Are you? I hadn’t noticed, _ he says, and she reaches back up and resumes tracing his tattoos and the patterns in his hair, and he clears his throat a little.

Which gets an actual  _ growl _ out of Jak. “Ad’ika,” Jak says shortly, “You and I are going to  _ talk _ .”

Ca’tra raises her eyebrows.  _ What if I don’t talk? _

Jak seems to get the gist, because he narrows his one dangerous eye and shakes his head. “Alright, so  _ I’ll _ be talking, and you’ll be kriffing listening.”

Kix wants to fidget, but he just sighs and sends Ca’tra an impression of how  _ uncomfortable _ he is.  _ He already hates me, tracinya, you’re not helping _ .

~~~

_ He doesn’t  _ **_hate_ ** _ you, _ Ca’tra thinks, runs her fingers over Kix’s tattoos again because they’re  _ interesting  _ and it’s funny how mad it makes Jak.  _ And if you’re that uncomfortable, why don’t you just take me back to my room? _

Kix  _ glares. _ Which she takes to be a no.

She half-shrugs at him, thinks,  _ It was worth a try. If you won’t let me go help Scratch and you won’t let me go back to my room, what am I supposed to do? _

_ Kriffing  _ **_rest,_ ** he says sharply.  _ And stop trying to get me  _ **_killed._ **

_ He won’t kill you, _ she protests, leans into his side a bit more, because she  _ is _ tired.  _ You’re poky. _

_ He won’t kill me because I’m poky? _ She thinks he might be laughing at her.

Ca’tra blinks, confused; it takes her a minute to track with him, and then she grumbles.  _ No, you stupid di’kut, your beskar’gam is  _ **_stabbing me!_ **

_ That, _ Kix says, and he’s  _ definitely _ laughing at her now,  _ is hardly my fault. _

_ Your beskar’gam, your kriffing fault, _ she snaps, irritably.  _ If you want me to sleep, you can’t be  _ **_poky._ **

He should have  _ figured that out _ by now.

_ I can just go then… _ and he projects the impression of getting a chair, sitting down.

She rejects that, immediately, reaches over and grabs the nearest of his hands, thinks  _ No. _ He’s not kriffing going anywhere right now.  _ Why not just take it off? _

_ With Jak karking Ordo around? _

_ He’s not dangerous, _ she protests vaguely, and then reconsiders that.  _ To you. As long as you’re not hurting me. Which you aren’t, so. But really, he’s not gonna  _ **_actually_ ** _ rip your arm off with his bare hands or something. _

_ That’s not very reassuring, cyar’ika, _ Kix thinks lightly, hums a bit.  _ You need to sleep. _

_ Not with the jetiise around. _ She doesn’t trust them.

_ I’ll watch your back, _ he promises.  _ At least lay back down and try to rest? _

_ Okay… _ She’s not very happy about it, but Ca’tra shifts to lay down on the bed, though she eschews the pillow in favor of tucking her forehead against his leg. Even though his armor’s poky. His hand slips back into her hair and she sighs a little, hums, and there’s that  _ blasted _ loth-cat impression again, and she’s gonna  _ punch him _ the next time he thinks about that. 

_ I’m sure you will, _ he thinks, wry.

_ I will! _ She means it to be menacing, but he runs his fingers through her hair again and it turns  _ soft _ instead, soft and sleepy, which is. Not helpful.  _ I swear… _

Kix laughs a little.  _ Go to sleep, tracinya, I’ve got you. _

The last thing Ca’tra remembers thinking is that she wishes she could see the look on her  _ cerar’s _ face right now.

~~~

When Kix had first thought of the idea of having a picnic with Ca’tra, it hadn’t been anything  _ nearly _ this elaborate. He blames Jesse for the idea exploding (although that’s a lie, Jesse just encouraged him), because now it’s a picnic in the Temple gardens where they won’t be bothered by anyone with what Elle swears were Ca’tra’s favorite foods from before and the armor that Jak had begrudgingly helped him get, after even  _ more _ begrudgingly explaining why that was so important to Ca’tra.

He’d gotten Rex and the Commander to help him find the  _ right _ place in the gardens, which would have been easier if both of them hadn’t been much pickier than he would have been. They did all pick a nice spot, though, so he’s not complaining.

Miik had volunteered his  _ favorite _ blanket for them to sit on, which Kix accepted, because he couldn’t refuse Miik anything.

Especially since at the  _ tiniest _ hint of reluctance Miik had waved his tiny hand drowning in his blue shirt sleeve and intoned, “You  _ will _ use my blanket at your picnic,” and Kix had had to go along with it.

General Kenobi keeps saying they shouldn’t let Miik think he’s  _ actually _ mind tricking them but, well, it’s  _ really fun _ .

All that to say, this picnic idea is well out of control and Kix is so afraid it’s going to go wrong and he’ll have kriffed something up, especially with the armor, even though all his  _ vode _ (and Elle, when she bothers) say it’s a great idea and she’ll love it. Jesse won’t kriffing stop calling it a date, which it  _ isn’t _ , exactly. It’s just she’s been doing so well, and she never goes  _ outside _ , and it’s been sunny and beautiful and the 501st has only been on one campaign recently and it just seemed like a good idea.

That’s not a  _ date _ . Not that Kix would actually know anyway.

He has everything set up, the gift and the food and all that kriffing stuff - he’s irrationally nervous about getting Ca’tra to agree to go with him. What if she doesn’t even  _ want  _ to go outside?

_ Easy, little one, _ the Force says,  _ almost _ sarcastically.

_ Shut up, vod _ , Kix returns, turning down the hallway toward Ca’tra’s room. It doesn’t help that he’s in his dress greys for no kriffing reason - Commander Tano had said it was a good idea, but he feels  _ foolish _ . He has his saber on him, for once - which is a risk, but he isn’t going anywhere without a weapon and his blasters would be a nuisance.

He raises his hand, swallows, and knocks on her door as nonchalantly as he can. Never mind that his stomach is turning slowly inside out right about now.

~~~

Ca’tra is standing in front of the mirror Padme (who wouldn’t let her call her Senator Amidala) had  _ insisted _ on getting her when they went clothes shopping. She’s really not  _ planning _ to wear the sundress all day, really she isn’t, because it’s too  _ pretty; _ Padme had  _ insisted _ on buying it for her, when she’d tried it on, even though it’s  _ far _ too elegant for her. Short, falling a couple inches above her knee, the dress is a kind of shimmery, light sapphire-blue, like the vaguely-remembered sky on Concordia, sleeveless with a medium v-neck (and the back is just two pieces of thin fabric criss-crossed), skin-tight to the waist and then flowing out into the light, airy skirt.

When she puts it on, she just wants to spin and spin and spin, to feel the way the skirt flares out around her.

(She’d tried that, though, once, and had gotten so dizzy she’d fallen over, laughing--luckily she’d been alone at the time, because it would’ve been  _ embarrassing.) _

But really, she’s just trying it  _ on, _ because she likes the way it looks, but she’d  _ never _ dare wear it outside her room, because  _ really, _ it’s  _ far _ too fancy. Elle had braided her hair half-up, half-down today, and she looks in the mirror and almost doesn’t even recognize herself.

She slips her fingers through the part of her hair that’s still down, draping it back over her shoulders and smiling hesitantly at her reflection--and then there’s a knock on the door, and she jumps. Hurries over to the door, and then freezes, smoothes her hands down the skirt of her dress, suddenly unsure. Maybe she should change before she answers the door?

But she’s already been standing here for too long, she thinks--how long does it normally take people to answer the door? Do people  _ open _ the door, or do they just say  _ come in? _ She swallows, hard, unaccountably nervous, and decides maybe she should just open the door.

So she reaches hesitantly for the keypad, forces herself to just  _ touch it _ before she can talk herself out of it, and tries not to fidget.

She’s (mostly) successful.

Ish.

She’s  _ not _ expecting to see  _ Kix _ on the other side, looking almost as nervous as she  _ feels _ (and she’s not entirely sure why the sight of him, in dress greys, makes her stomach flutter with a kind of anxious anticipation), and she swallows a bit, instinctively goes to tuck her hair behind her ear (except it’s already back, and so she just… awkwardly lets her hand fall back to her side and tries not to twist her fingers together). “Hi, Kix,” she manages, after a second, can’t  _ quite _ meet his eyes.

Why, oh  _ why, _ didn’t she change out of the dress?

~~~

Kix does  _ not _ expect Ca’tra in a dress, and it’s mostly for that reason, of course, that he feels a flush spreading up his neck and over his whole face when he sees her. He’s known Senator Amidala took her to get some new clothes, but he hasn’t thought she’d gotten anything like this. Not that he knows if “this” is normal or not, for girls; he hasn’t really had a wide sample. Either way, it’s  _ nice _ , the blue, kind of shiny. Makes her look soft and bright and… stuff. Kriff.

And her hair is  _ really kriffing pretty _ .

She fiddles with her hair for an awkward second, says “Hi, Kix,” and Kix realizes he hasn’t said anything yet. Which is weird.  _ Haar’chak _ .

“Um, hey,” he says, running a hand sheepishly over his head.

_ I know this is weird _ , Ca’tra thinks, all in a rush of embarrassed impressions,  _ I just… I got it with Padme and I really like how it looks and it’s nice. _

That makes it easier, somehow; Kix chuckles and steps carefully into her room, reaches up to lightly run his fingers over her hair. “It’s not weird,  _ ner’tracinya. _ I like how it looks, too.” Not that it matters at all what he thinks, but still. “You look really pretty.” Not great. Better than nothing.

Good enough, apparently, to make Ca’tra blush and look down, sliding her hand over the skirt of the dress like she’s trying not to twist her fingers into the fabric.  _ Thanks _ .

He clears his throat, pulls his hand away from her hair to twist his fingers together. “I, um… I had an idea. Just, a little one, um- It might be kinda fun, I thought, to go outside. Have a picnic and stuff, I have some good food and Miik loaned me a blanket and I guess I thought you might like that.” Too much rambling, definitely. How the kriff did he ever think he’d be  _ good _ at this sort of thing?

_ Outside? _ Ca’tra smiles, tentatively.  _ I can go outside? _

“Yeah,” Kix says, which might not be true - he never asked anyone, but then, things have been odd with the Council lately. He figures if she’s not allowed outside, no one will know until it’s too late - and he had Miik agree to play lookout so they aren’t disturbed. He  _ thinks _ Miik is up to the job. Maybe not. The kid gets distracted. He shrugs. “Figured it’s been awhile, and it’s nice today.” At least he sounds convincingly casual about it, not like he’s been planning this for two weeks.

~~~

Ca’tra flushes, nods a bit, bites her lower lip a little.  _ I… haven’t really been outside since he took me, _ she admits, looks down at her feet.  _ Mustafar isn’t… very nice. _ Which is an understatement. And, she thinks, that’s not actually an  _ answer, _ so she nods again and looks back up.  _ Yeah, I’d--like that, Kix. _

Kix grins. She thinks he feels  _ relieved, _ and also a bit sad--probably about the mention of Mustafar or something, who knows.  _ Okay, then, _ he says, offers her a hand, which she takes willingly.  _ Let’s go. I hope you’re hungry. _

She smiles, lets him lead her through the halls of the Temple towards the courtyard--which she’s seen before, but never dared to go into, even though the bright golden sunlight and green grass and the trees and flowers and the  _ birds-- _ and right, focusing, stay focused, Ca’tra. The  _ point _ is she’s wanted to go outside for a while, because it looks so  _ pretty _ and Concordia, which she barely remembers, was still recovering from the war so it was never this  _ vibrant. _ She finds herself almost  _ nervous, _ though, about going outside. She hasn’t been outside somewhere that won’t  _ kill her _ after too long for… a long time, and everything’s so  _ green _ and  _ pretty. _

What if she messes it up?

Ca’tra swallows as Kix pushes open the transparisteel door, steps outside--she follows him, because it’s either that or let go of his hand, which she doesn’t want to do. So she lets him tug her out into the sunlight, and then she just… stops.

Stops, because there’s  _ grass _ under her feet, and something warm and bright and liquid gold swirling over her skin; she lifts her hand and stares at it, at the way the light dapples across her pale skin.  _ It’s… warm, _ she thinks, and she’s reminded of the way the Light feels, the way it felt the first time Kix gave it to her, and she presses that impression across the bond.

There’s  _ flowers _ sprinkled across the grass, white and blue and pink and yellow, so many  _ colors _ and shapes, and she drops Kix’s hand to crouch down by a large, graceful, pale blue flower.  _ Look, Kix, _ she thinks, tracing her finger over the petals.  _ It’s fuzzy! _ The fine hairs on the petals (why do they have hairs?) tickle her fingertips, and she giggles. Carefully plucks the flower on its delicate green stem and sniffs it--it smells sweet, smells like nostalgia and fond memory.

She hasn’t smelled a flower in--in  _ forever. _

Ca’tra doesn’t really  _ think, _ she just twists the stem into her braid so that the flower is poking over her ear, and then she grins up at Kix, delighted.

~~~

Ca’tra’s enthusiasm is contagious, sparkling warm and light and utterly exuberant between their minds, and any anxiety Kix had left is gone like it’s been burned away, and he grins at her and the flower behind her ear, knows he’s done the right thing.

“I think Kenobi would know the names of most of these flowers,” he says, because General Kenobi really likes useless knowledge like that, and it seems like something Ca’tra would want to know. “Come on, Ca’tra, I’ve got a good place to show you.”

She traces a finger over the flower behind her ear, looks reluctantly around, and catches up to him, pouting.

“You know there’s still going to be all this where we’re going, right?” Kix says, lightly, chuckling. “But with food.” And a wide, clear brook with lots of trees, which Kix thinks is a lot nicer than just grass. Although grass feels like a really exciting thing, in her mind, and he almost wants to take his own boots off and go barefoot too - except no.

Ca’tra makes a face at him.  _ I know _ , she grumbles, and he snorts and slides his arm around her shoulder, grins again because she looks so  _ happy _ .

It’s hard actually getting her to their destination; the gardens are elaborate, which Kix thinks makes sense since it’s curated by Jedi. Parts of it are just patterned riots of color where flowers have been grown to make almost carpets, which Kix doesn’t understand but which Ca’tra  _ loves _ . There’s a whole twisted groves of small trees with gnarled branches that have some kind of weird fruit on them, flowering vines twisting up their trunks. Ca’tra likes all of it, stops to look at all of it, points out details that Kix wouldn’t have thought mattered but that seem exciting when she notices them. So he’s excited when they start walking through taller, smoother trees and he can hear the sounds of water and the nerves start twisting in his stomach again because he wants this to be  _ nice _ .

Nice enough for Ca’tra and her blue dress and the flower in her hair and all her excitement.

~~~

When Kix drags her away from trying to coax a tiny hummingbird with jewel-toned wings to land on her fingers, Ca’tra _grumbles,_ because _honestly,_ can’t he just let her _explore?_ Everything’s so _pretty_ and glowing and there’s _birds._ _“Birds,_ Kix! Actual, real, _birds.”_ She pouts at him, but he just rolls his eyes (though he’s grinning a little, so he’s probably not actually annoyed) and tugs her onward again.

“There’ll  _ probably _ be birds up here, too,” he says, pointedly, and she huffs but lets him pull her along.

She’s  _ not _ happy with that, she  _ isn’t, _ she--

And then he leads her around a tree and she just… stops, because there’s--she doesn’t even know what to  _ call _ it, there’s so much  _ water, _ and where does it all  _ come from? _ She’s never seen so much water in one place in her  _ life. _

Kix is grinning at her, and she thinks she probably looks kind of stupid, or something, but she can’t stop  _ staring, _ because  _ holy kriff. _ Wow.  _ It’s--water? _ she asks.

Kix nods, smiles.  _ Yeah, tracinya, it’s all water. _

_ There’s so  _ **_much._ ** She wants to go stick her fingers in it, to  _ feel _ it, but Kix is laughing and he lightly tugs her hand.

“Come here,” he says, and she finally looks away from the water to see a blanket spread out on the grass (which is long and sweet and soft against her skin), and there’s food set up, and she doesn’t even know where to  _ look _ because there’s so much.

So she looks at Kix, who looks a bit nervous, like he’s not sure if she’ll like it or not, and she says,  _ You did all this? For me? _

He nods, a little, still looks unsure, and so she smiles brilliantly and flings her arms around his neck, hides her face in his shoulder, says, “Thank you,” soft and muffled into his shirt.

~~~

Kix’s chest aches, and he puts his arms around her and holds her tight, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You're welcome,” he says happily, smiling. “Elle and some of the others helped me with it.” (Including Miik, who had adamantly insisted there be uj cake included in the menu.)

He sits down on the blanket, tugging her hand for her to sit with him, and gestures around at everything. “There's plates right there,” he says, “and you can have whatever you want. It's all great.”

Ca’tra grins at him, scoots around so she can sit comfortably  _ and _ (he suspects) reach everything. Kix gets the sense that it all looks  _ amazing _ to her, which is good since Elle said most of this stuff was her favorite. “Kix,” she says, smiling and shaking her head, “this is…” She shakes her head again, projects simple warmth, like the sun, and tightens her hand on his.

“I just thought it would be fun,” he says, rubbing his head and shrugging. “I'm glad you like it.” He hesitates, then decides he should get this part out of the way before he can talk himself out of it, so he gets up and goes over to where he's stashed the wrapped bundle of armor, ignores the inquisitive way Ca’tra pokes at his thoughts.

He brings it back to her and sits down, sets it between them and hopes it isn't too obvious what it is. “I've got… Jak helped me get you this,” he says, twisting his fingers together. He doesn't remember the exact phrases Jak told him usually went with armor, but he remembers the sentiment. “You've been through a lot, and fought well,” he says seriously, “and so that you can keep fighting, we got you this  _ beskar’gam _ .” He taps the bundle with his fingers, holds her eyes although he's  _ very _ scared he's messing this up or doing something he shouldn't - but Jak helped, had said this was a good idea, so Kix thinks it's got to be okay.

~~~

Ca’tra  _ freezes. _

She can’t take her eyes off Kix, for a moment, just… sits there and kinda  _ gapes _ at him, and she knows that looks stupid but she can’t quite wrap her mind around it. 

No  _ wonder, _ she thinks, distractedly,  _ cerar _ has been so cagey the last few days.

She reaches out a hand, hesitant, looking to Kix to make sure it’s alright, and carefully unwraps the bundle, stares at the unpainted  _ beskar’gam, _ traces her fingers over the metal, very carefully.  _ It’s mine? _ she asks, unsure, almost unable to believe it. There’s no  _ way. _

“Yeah,” Kix says, and he smiles at her. “I have some paint, too, if you want to paint it.”

Ca’tra shakes her head--not a negative answer, just an expression of… awe. She’d never  _ expected _ to be able to have her own  _ beskar’gam, _ not after Dooku, not after everything.  _ Beskar’gam _ would’ve given her identity as a  _ mando’ade, _ and Dooku didn’t want that.

She realizes, abruptly, that she’s crying.

“I don’t…” and she stops, shakes her head again, because there are no words. No words can explain how much it  _ means, _ to be given a gift like this.  _ “Vor entye.” _ Her throat closes around the words, and she decides to kriff speaking anyway, and scoots over around the armor so she can slide her arms around Kix again, lean into him.

Real  _ beskar’gam. _ For  _ her. _ It’s more than she ever could’ve  _ dreamed _ of.

~~~

It's such a  _ relief _ that the gift was the right choice, and Kix hugs Ca’tra as tight as he can and grins. He's gonna have to thank Jak later, if the old  _ verd _ will let him. “You deserve it,” he says quietly, gruffly, trying not to get too emotional, although he doesn't know  _ why _ he's trying since he's just failing.

Ca’tra laughs, just the tiniest bit, and straightens to kiss his cheek, her hazel eyes so, so bright.

“We can paint it now, if you want,” he says, because Brii had supplied him with his best paints, and he knows his  _ vode _ always want to paint new armor as soon as they can. “Or we can eat first.”

_ I’m hungry _ , Ca’tra declares, by way of an answer, although she glances longingly at the armor as she does. Kix laughs, stretches his legs out, and grabs a plate to toss into her lap and then gets one for himself.

They pile food onto their plates and settle in to eat, and Ca’tra’s already halfway through her plate when Kix almost chokes on the whiskey he’s drinking with a snort. “Look, Ca’tra, it’s you.” He points, and Ca’tra frowns and turns to look at the grey loth-cat that’s come meowing out of the bushes, probably interested in their meal.

The flood of offended annoyance that sweeps across the bond sends Kix into a short fit of uncontrollable laughter, which isn’t helped by the angry frown she gives him with a cute wrinkle of her nose. She leans over and punches him on the shoulder, hard enough to hurt.  _ I warned you! That isn’t  _ **_funny_ ** _ , Kix. _

“I think it’s hilarious,” he says, holding out a hand toward the cat until the small animal eases within reach, lightly headbutts his hand. “See, you guys are so similar.”

“Kriff you,” she says, with feeling, and Kix just scratches the cat’s head and smirks at her.

“Come  _ on _ , it isn't a bad thing,” he snorts, picking up the loth-cat (much to its annoyance, which is also like Ca’tra). “Cats are  _ cute _ .”

_ Stop it, _ she tells him, flatly,  _ I am  _ **_not_ ** _ cute. _

_ Why the kriff is that a bad thing, little cat?  _ he teases (although he actually is curious, he'd been under the impression that  _ cute _ was a compliment).

_ I'm not a  _ **_baby_ ** _ ,  _ she says scathingly, although she doesn't  _ really _ feel furious.  _ I could kick your shebs, Kix _ .

_ Yeah, probably, _ he says.  _ You're still cute though. _

**_Babies_ ** _ are cute, _ she says, peevish, glaring at him. The loth-cat scrambles out of Kix hands and hops onto Ca’tra’s lap, startling her. (She's so damn cute, gods.)  _ Women are mesh’la, or kandosii’la if you really want to be nice. _

Kix figures someone should tell the Captain that, because Rex mostly just calls the Commander  _ cute _ or  _ pretty _ . He chuckles, can't really stop grinning.  _ Well, then, you're ori’mesh’la and kandosii’la. And cute. _

Ca’tra grumbles and punches him again, but it doesn't really hurt. Which probably means he's winning her over. So he grins at her and raises his eyebrows as the cat settles down to curl up on her lap, and she pointedly goes back to eating, thinks  _ kriff you _ again.

_ I'm offended, _ he huffs, returns to his own meal, can't kriffing stop grinning.  _ After I'm so nice to you, too. _

Ca’tra takes a big bite of a piece of fruit and ignores him, scratching the loth-cat behind the ears.

~~~

Kix is almost  _ pouting _ at her (although the effect is somewhat ruined by the fact that he’s smiling brightly), which makes it… harder than expected to ignore him. But  _ cute, _ honestly? Kriffing  _ cute? _

The loth-cat tilts its head, and Ca’tra obligingly moves her hand, scratches its neck; it starts  _ purring, _ loudly, the sound rumbling through her legs  _ and _ her hand, and she giggles. Which makes the cat glare at her, offended, and twitch its tail--though apparently her scritches are  _ acceptable, _ because it (Ca’tra decides the cat is a she) doesn’t make a move to get up.  _ I’m not laughing at you, pel’ika, _ she thinks to her, even though she  _ knows _ the cat can’t hear.

Kix can, however, and he snorts. “Pel’ika?”

She shrugs a little, decides to stop ignoring him.  _ It fits, _ she thinks, finishes her fruit and sighs. Pel’ika (it’s a good name, she thinks) meows, sniffs inquisitively at her newly-empty hand, and Ca’tra offers her fingers for the loth-cat to lick.

Kix is  _ grinning _ at her. Like, full-on grinning like a  _ di’kut, _ and she’s pretty sure there’s something smug in the smile, so she sticks her tongue out at him and then goes back to scratching the cat. Who is  _ much _ more appreciative of her.

But after a minute, she has to look up again, because she  _ really _ wants to paint her (her!)  _ beskar’gam, _ and so she smiles hesitantly at Kix and asks.  _ Can we paint now? _

“Yeah, sure,” Kix says, and he gets up and pulls out paint from behind a tree. “There’s a bunch of colors to choose from, too.”

He looks proud of that, so she smiles at him, starts unwrapping all the armor and laying it out piece-by-piece on the grass. She can hardly believe this--she’s about to paint her  _ own beskar’gam. _ It still seems impossible, no matter how (generally) wonderful things have been since the battle on Mustafar.

“What’s your favorite color?” Kix asks, and she  _ looks _ at him, raises an eyebrow.

“All of them?”

For some reason, he starts laughing at that, and she catches (again) that stupid kriffing impression about being  _ cute. _ “Well, I hate to break it to you,  _ tracinya, _ but you can’t put all the colors on your armor.”

_ Why not? _ she thinks, a bit facetious, and then she frowns, tilts her head to one side.  _ Green, and blue, and purple, I think. _ Really, she likes anything, as long as it’s not some too-vivid shade of red.

~~~

_ Those are good colors _ , Kix thinks.  _ Blue especially _ . Because obviously blue is a very important color.  _ That’s gonna be nice _ .

Ca’tra curls her nimble fingers around one of Brii’s paintbrushes, traces the clean bristles over her skirt almost curiously.

_ Have you painted before?  _ Kix asks, smiling.

_ Once _ , she answers.  _ I helped Elle paint her armor. _ There’s a memory of very, very messy lines of gold paint and Elle declaring very seriously that it was an  _ amazing _ paint job.

Still cute.

Ca’tra takes the green pot of paint from Kix, eases off the lid and dips the brush in, swirling it around a little, looking nearly fascinated. He opens the blue pot, grabs another paintbrush, and while she’s still focusing on her paint, takes a big dab of paint and swipes it down her forearm.

“Kix!” she yelps, scowling at him and checking her dress for splatters. She mumbles something under her breath in Mando’a, one of Kix’s personal favorite insults, and waves her hand, paint from her own pot of green splashing all  _ over _ his jacket.

“Aw,  _ kriff _ ,  _ Ca’tra _ ,” he says, peering down at his jacket. Unbelievable, this is his  _ only _ set of dress greys. “I didn’t get any on your dress!”

She sits up straighter, raises her eyebrows at him archly, and casually slides her paint over to her armor pieces, dabs the brush into the paint, and then just… stops.

Kix knows that feeling, of not being sure where to start, what to paint. Brii never has that problem, but Kix remembers finding his first set of armor almost daunting, because the paint was supposed to be unique, supposed to be  _ his _ . He pushes the blue and purple pots over to her, swipes some of the thicker globs of green off his greys to wipe on her arm (and she swears at him again).

The loth-cat seems bothered by none of this, just scoots on her lap so its face is buried in her skirt, and purrs louder.

_ Just do what feels right, _ he says, then adds, wryly,  _ And start on the greaves so it isn't as noticeable if you mess up. _

~~~

Ca’tra grins at  _ pel’ika, _ rubs the loth-cat’s ears with one hand, and then she reaches for the greaves and frowns, considering a moment.  _ Is there any white? _

Kix nods, sends an affirmative impression, and brings over the white paint, and she sends him her thanks, and then considers again. Looks at the way the paint swirls, thick and rich and vibrant.

Unbidden, the memory of the lava flows on Mustafar pops into her mind, the way all the reds and oranges and yellows blended together in thick, fat streaks of color and texture, and Ca’tra is no artist but she thinks there’s something inherently  _ beautiful _ about the abstract rush, the way there’s no purpose or pattern to the design, just the temperment of the wind and rocks, untamed and wild and free.

She likes that idea.

It’s slow going; she Force-pulls one of the extra plates over and uses it to mix the white with the green and blue and purple, making a bunch of different shades of each paint, and she paints the lava flows into her armor, one stroke at a time. She lets the contours of the  _ beskar’gam _ and the currents of the Force (because the Force feels almost like the lava flows, sometimes) influence her painting, the width of the strokes and the layers of paint and the swirls and angles.

It’s while she’s working on the chest plate that the loth-cat decides to “help”; it walks across the newly-painted surface, leaving perfect black pawprints in the paint, and then leaps over onto the helmet and leaves  _ paint _ pawprints on the black surface. Which, of  _ course, _ makes Kix laugh. “See?” he says, smirking at her. “Loth-cat.”

In answer, Ca’tra splatters a line of purple paint across his face.

~~~

Kix laughs, swipes at his face, eyes the purple paint with more amusement than annoyance. “It’s true, little cat, whatever you say.”

_ Stop it, Kiiiix, _ she practically  _ whines _ , extending her foot to kick him and painting claws onto the pawprints - presumably so they don’t look so dainty.

_ Make me _ , he says, and that’s a mistake, because she flicks her hand again and more purple paint splatters onto his  _ hair _ . “Ca’tra!”

“Ne’johaa,” she tells him, smirking, and Kix quickly leans into her space, narrowing his eyes, arms going over his chest.

“You’re being unfair,” he informs her, as she goes back to painting the chestplate of her armor, starts trailing green curves like vines towards the top of armor piece. “I’m trying to  _ complement  _ you, little cat.”

She grumbles, although she’s flushing just a little, and rubs her nose with one hand, getting paint on her nose like Brii so often does. It’s much cuter when  _ she _ does it, though. Kix feels his chest swell, reaches out and rubs off the smear of paint with a slight smile.

“It’s looking good,” he says, nodding to her armor. It seems right for her, the loose, liquid patterns.

_ Do you… do you want to paint something somewhere? _ Ca’tra asks, and Kix hesitates - painting someone else’s armor, sharing someone else’s armor, means a great level of trust, a bond. Usually it’s a gesture between  _ ori’vode _ ; he thinks one of Captain Rex’s greaves used to be Commander Cody’s.

_ If you want, _ he answers, reaching out to pet her  _ pel’ika _ .

Ca’tra points at one of the bracers, raising an eyebrow, and Kix nods, swirling his brush through the blue paint as he has done a thousand times. He’s trying to decide what to paint when Ca’tra’s fingers sweep through his short hair, and she thinks, almost shyly,  _ Something like this? _

And he thinks that seems right, so he starts painting out the lightning shapes, a messy copy of the Aurebesh script:  _ the only good droid is a dead one _ , like a signature. It’s easy to paint, easier to get totally caught up in the project, smoothing the paint, getting the lines right, like he does when he’s styling his hair or painting his own armor. Neat, precise.

~~~

Ca’tra doesn’t really look to see what Kix is painting (she knows what she’ll see if she looks), because it’s far more interesting to watch  _ him. _ He goes still, when he concentrates--focused, intent, precise. Like he’s prepping for a surgery. Which… isn’t far off, really, if she thinks about it.

_ It’s just painting, _ she thinks to him, amused,  _ not a surgery. _

Kix shrugs one shoulder, grins up at her, mischievous.  _ Do you want it to look good or not? It’s your armor, not mine. _

_ Touche, _ she thinks, smiles a little more. When he puts it that way… 

While Kix works on ‘his’ bit, Ca’tra considers the pawprints now traveling across her helmet, makes a face. Even if she adds claws (which she’d managed to do to the pawprints on her chest plate, using her own fingernails), they won’t look the  _ same, _ because the pattern of the colors will be all  _ wrong, _ and that’s  _ annoying. _ Ugh. “You are a pest,  _ pel’ika,” _ she tells the loth-cat, very seriously.

It yowls, twitches its tail, and then curls up around the base of her helmet and closes its eyes, very pointedly ignoring her.

Hmph.

The stupid pawprints on her chest plate still look  _ dainty, _ still look…  _ landuur, _ really, and she makes another face, trying to figure out how she can make this less dainty--ah, the claws! She reaches out with her fingers and carefully drags them through the wet paint in three jagged lines, like the loth-cat (or whatever) that’d left the prints had scratched the armor. Which looks much better, except now there’s paint on her fingers; she smirks a little to herself, reaches out, smears the paint in lines down Kix’s cheek.

He just looks up from his painting and  _ looks _ at her for a minute, and then he sighs and shakes his head. “You are  _ such _ a cat,  _ tracinya,” _ he hums, and then, “Hold still.”

She doesn’t quite know why, but she holds still anyway--and then he reaches out with his paintbrush, coated thickly in the blue he likes so much, and dots it on her nose. And, before she can blink, can think to push him away, he’s drawn  _ kriffing whiskers _ on her face.

And he’s  _ smirking _ at her.

“Kix!” she yelps, tries to wipe the paint away, but it just  _ smears _ and  _ seriously? _ “I can’t  _ believe _ you!”

~~~

She looks so  _ kriffing cute _ and she’s glaring and covered in paint and Kix can’t stand it anymore; he scoots closer to her and sets down his paintbrush, curls his fingers over the back of her neck and leans over to kiss her, chuckling at the way she wrinkles her nose before kissing back, one of her paint-covered hands coming up to hang onto his collar (and so much for this jacket, he supposes).

_ You’re still a kriffing asshole _ , she thinks at him, and he hums, pulls back, winks.

_ I know. I can just go, if you want… _

_ Shut  _ **_up._ **

Kix kisses her again, traces his thumb over her cheek, and then goes back to his painting, sees her do the same out of the corner of his eye. She’s good at painting, and he hesitates, pauses his painting, before asking, “Would you wanna paint something on my armor, sometime? Just a little thing, maybe, since I’m painting on yours.”

If she doesn’t know the significance of that, to him, maybe it isn’t fair to ask - but it wouldn’t have to be important, just a painted doodle, something nice like she’s doing to her own armor. And they are… they are very close, so there would be nothing wrong with wearing what would essentially be  _ her armor _ .

She smiles at him, and he hopes none of that slipped through. “Sure, Kix,” she says, and he grins.

“Cool.” He goes back to the last word of script, finished the piece of armor about the same time Ca’tra has her helmet halfway finished. The loth-cat is asleep again, and the sound of the water is so soothing that if Kix weren’t so awake and happy he could almost sleep too.

~~~

Ca’tra finishes her helmet after a little bit longer, idly glancing down and studying the dress to see if there’s any paint on it. After Padme had spent so much on it, it’d be a shame to ruin it the first time she ever  _ wears _ it, after all.

There are a few spots, and she concentrates, seeks out the paint globules and Force-pulls them out of the fabric, into her hand, until she’s holding a small globe of bright paint in her palm. She grins at Kix, and he has the sense to recognize this smile and look  _ concerned _ before she casually uses the Force to lob the paint-ball at his chest.

Kix  _ yelps, _ glares at her, says, “The  _ kriff, _ Ca’tra, what if I  _ need these _ again? I only have one pair!”

She shrugs, projects an impression of  _ not my fault, _ sticks her tongue out at him.  _ There’s water over there, you can wash it out, _ she hums, and he rolls his eyes.

_ Yeah, right, _ he thinks, and she snorts.

He’s being stubborn, though, staying where he is, and she wants to go feel the water, so she pushes herself to her feet and crosses the grass (the loth-cat gets up too, stretches and yawns and follows her over), kneels by the edge of the water and sticks her fingers in. It feels  _ nice, _ and she grins, adjusts her position, and dangles her feet over the edge, kicking them lightly back and forth in the cool liquid. And then she leans back, lays down, looks back at Kix (he’s almost upside-down when she looks at him like this, which is funny), and waves idly at him. 

Her  _ pel’ika _ takes that as an invitation and proceeds to climb on her stomach and curl up, purring loudly, and Ca’tra yelps a little, surprised. The loth-cat cracks open one eye, glares at her, and then promptly goes back to sleep, still purring. She can’t help giggling, because the cat is so  _ opinionated. _

It’s  _ funny. _

~~~

Ca’tra is all sprawled out on the grass, kicking her legs in the shallow water and  _ giggling _ , and Kix grins fondly at her (gets an impression of  _ woah upside down _ ). She flings out one arm to flop into the grass, but settles her other hand on the cat and strokes its spine. Kix senses warmth, happiness, ease… all the things he always wants for her, and he grabs some napkins and scrubs at the paint on his skin and hair and greys, drinks a little more of his whiskey.

Ca’tra’s dress is all fanned out on the grass, shimmering blue on green, and Kix is no artist and never will be, but he finally gets why sometimes Brii says he  _ has _ to draw something. His Ca'tra makes a  _ picture _ , with the silver water behind her and her cat and dress and paint and tilted face grinning delightedly at him - but Kix doesn't need to draw it to remember it.

He just  _ looks _ for a moment, fixes it in his memory, Ca’tra plucking idly at grass stems and laughing at the cat, at him, and it occurs to him that this… this is what  _ peace _ is like and it sends a flood of aching warmth through him. It's so close he can kriffing  _ taste  _ it.

Ca’tra sends him a questioning look, and he shrugs at her, gets up and walks over to sit by her in the grass, cross-legged. “Feels good,” he says, hesitantly. “Being out here, with you.”

Ca’tra has such a  _ bright _ smile. “Yeah,” she says. Kix hasn't really gotten used to  _ hearing _ her, yet - she has a low voice, smooth and quiet, and she talks like she's picking every word very carefully. He likes her voice, it's  _ her _ . “You should try this,” she says, kicking one foot out of the water so he gets splashed; the water’s cold, but not as cold as he’d thought it would be.

“I’m okay,” he says lightly, although he does want to, a little. And really, nothing worse can happen to his greys at this point. Still, he doesn't move to join her, just reaches out and starts stroking her hair, sends an impression of  _ cat _ again. She seems more or less resigned to it by this point.

~~~

_ Still not a cat, _ Ca’tra hums, but Kix’s hand feels nice and she doesn’t really want him to stop (which he will, if she keeps protesting), so she huffs and sends a bit of resigned exasperation.  _ Di’kut, _ she thinks, fondly.

A flash of jewel-bright color catches her eye, and she looks up to see the little hummingbird from earlier hovering nearby, its head tilted as it watches her. None of the animals here are afraid of sentients--she’s not sure if that’s because of the constant  _ jetiise _ presence or something else, but she thinks she likes it. She untangles her fingers from the grass, extends her hand, and the hummingbird watches her for another moment before zipping across the space, its wings blurring, and settling on her finger.

“Woah,” she breathes, because she hadn’t  _ actually _ expected the bird to come over. “Now  _ you _ are  _ copikla,” _ and Kix is amusement in the back of her mind, but she ignores him. Bird are  _ much _ cuter than she is. Really.

The bird ruffles its feathers and preens a little, and she grins--and then squeals a little when it takes off and flies at her  _ face. _ But it just lands on her hair and makes a weird chirping noise (birds are weird). The  _ pel’ika _ meows back, and Ca’tra can’t stop herself from laughing, all awed wonder and brightness. 

This is  _ amazing. _

~~~

There's a  _ hummingbird _ on Ca’tra’s  _ head _ , and the loth-cat on her stomach, and she just looks kriffing  _ bright _ and a little out of Kix’s reach - except he’s still easing his fingers through her hair, careful not to disturb the tiny jeweled bird perched above her forehead. Even when he almost brushes the bird with his fingers though (and freezes, because he doesn’t want it to leave), it just chirps and snuggles further down on Ca’tra’s head. Kix hesitates, then traces a finger light and steady down the hummingbird’s back, and it preens a little.

For some reason that makes him  _ ridiculously _ proud. He doesn’t mean to project that to Ca’tra, but he feels a wash of warmth and, and fondness from her, and she reaches out with her free hand to poke him in the shoulder.  **_You_ ** , she says smugly,  _ are cute, Kix _ .

He wrinkles his nose at her, grinning.  _ Thanks _ . Because he doesn’t think he’s  _ cute _ , but he also wants to convince her cute is a  _ good  _ thing, so he’ll take it.

_ Come on _ , Ca’tra says, poking him again, and Kix grins at her.  _ It feels  _ **_nice,_ ** _ you need to try this. _

_ No, _ he grumbles, picking at the tops of his boots and giving her a dubious look.  _ I’m sure it feels very nice, little cat, but I don’t want to _ .

_ Liar,  _ she says, poking his thoughts and his shoulder at the same time.  _ You’re such a big  _ **_dumb_ ** _ liar _ .

Kix laughs and smacks her hand away, lightly, shakes his head.  _ What makes you think that? _ he says, and she suddenly grabs onto his ankle and tugs, upsetting the loth-cat and making him raise his eyebrow.  _ Is that supposed to move me? _

_ Shut  _ **_up_ ** _ , _ and she lets go a second before the stupid  _ Force _ grabs his legs and  _ jerks _ so he falls over on his back, and Ca’tra pulls both his boots off with a flick of her fingers.

“That,” he says grumpily, sitting back up and going to peel his socks off because he might as well at this point, “was  _ rude _ , my _ cyar’ika _ .”

“It worked,” she says smugly, patting the loth-cat’s head so it settles back down.

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” Kix informs her, and the tiny hummingbird extends its wings, pauses for a second, and then streaks off into the air, and Ca’tra  _ pouts _ .

“You’re lucky I like  _ you _ so much.” She pets the loth-cat she’s holding and gives him a significant look, raising her eyebrows, nodding at the brook, like she didn’t just… Kix doesn’t know why hearing her say that makes his face get hot and his stomach tighten, because they’ve  _ kissed _ , it isn’t like he doesn’t  _ know _ she “likes him.” It’s just that she’s  _ saying _ she does, which is apparently different. He grumbles and rolls up his pant legs, dramatically swings his feet into the  _ cold, haar’chak _ , water and kicks a little. It feels good, she’s right.

_ Don’t you dare give me that face _ , he says, because she’s going to be  _ smirking _ at him, the  _ di’kut _ .

She sits up, shifting so she’s holding the now-quite-grumpy loth-cat in her arms, and kicking water towards him.  _ I’m not _ , she thinks. Which is a lie, he can see that little smirk. It shouldn’t be as cute as it is, he should be  _ annoyed _ .

~~~

Ca’tra doesn’t smirk  _ at _ him, but she  _ does _ think,  _ I told you, _ to which Kix sends a surge of irritation mixed with fondness. She chooses not to respond to that, instead clutching her  _ pel’ika _ closer to her chest and shifting so she’s able to put more of her feet in the water. This is apparently enough for the loth-cat, because it scrambles free from her arms and wanders over to lay down on the now-abandoned picnic blanket.

Ca’tra huffs, then stands up and splashes over to Kix, grinning down at him and running her fingers through his hair, bending down to kiss him, scraping her hand across his cheek and jawline and then down his neck to rest on his shoulder.  _ You’re really bad at being annoyed, _ she hums.

She pulls back to grin at him, and he’s just--staring up at her, almost  _ awed, _ and he says,  _ I’m trying my best, ner’cyar’ika, but you’re kriffing kandosii’la. _

She beams, can’t help leaning in to kiss him again.  _ Good, _ she thinks, smugly,  _ you’re learning. _

And then she pulls away and skips a little ways down the--creek, she picks the word off the top of Kix’s mind--down the creek, laughing,  _ giddy _ almost at the feeling of the cool liquid splashing against her legs, the warmth of the sun on her shoulders, paint on her hands and a flower in her hair. It’s all so  _ amazing, _ and she just wants to laugh and spin and breathe it all in, swallow it whole, like maybe she can hold this feeling inside her forever, the way her skin’s tingling and her blood buzzing and her heart racing from sheer  _ joy. _

_ It’s so  _ **_beautiful,_ ** _ Kix, _ she thinks,  _ all of this, _ and she spins a little so she can smile at him, glowing and radiant in the sunlight. (It feels like there’s sunshine in her very  _ soul, _ today, like it’s bubbling out her smiles and laughter like a golden storm.)

He’s watching her, one corner of his mouth curved up in the weirdest little smile (and she thinks it’d be interesting to kiss that off his face), and he’s so  _ soft _ and  _ wondering _ when he answers with,  _ Yeah, it is. Mesh’la cyar’ika. _

She flushes a little, wraps her arms around and hugs herself, and then she can’t help it--she giggles again, flings her hands out to the side and twirls around a little.  _ Come  _ **_on,_ ** _ Kix, stop gaping and-- _ and she pauses, a little shyly,  _ come dance with me? _

_ There’s no music, _ he thinks, and she shrugs, skips back over to him.

_ So?  _

~~~

Oh,  _ Force _ . Kix feels like he’s been hit over the head with a kriffing  _ brick _ , his chest constricting so tight he almost can’t breathe, throat going rough and tight and achey. Ca’tra is all dazzling eyes and a shy smile, lip drawn between her teeth, the current tugging her skirt against her legs, and  _ come dance with me _ , she says, and it all feels like life and sun and Light and  _ her _ , and he doesn’t even know what he’s doing when he pushes himself to his feet, smiling so wide it hurts. She laughs, rolls her eyes at him, gives him a look like  _ would you hurry up _ .

He rolls his eyes back, and she kriffing  _ spins _ again, this time actually projecting impatience, so he walks as fast as he can with the current, the pebbly bottom of the creek poky against the bottoms of his feet. And he’s not really intending to dance, although he doesn’t know what he’s doing, it’s just he feels… he doesn’t want to  _ name _ it, because none of this feels quite real, and he wants to hold onto the warmth until he can say it.

_ You’re such a slow di’kut _ , she informs him, as he comes to a rather awkward, fidgeting stop in front of her in the water, the current pushing his legs like it could push him closer to her, and the Force is laughing, laughing, laughing.  _ You know dancing is really easy _ , she tells him sagely, grinning,  _ you just do what feels right. _

“Yeah,” he says, throat feeling like it’s not even going to let  _ that _ karking word out. Much less all the other things, the joy that’s almost a secret. He reaches for the Force, without entirely meaning to, its strength running through him as liquid as the water, and reaches out to settle his hands on her hips (checking, as he always does, that that’s okay).

She gives him a  _ look _ , rolls her eyes, says,  _ Are we gonna dance or not, Kix? _

Kix says, “I karking love you,” breathes it almost.

Well, kriff.

~~~

That… is  _ not _ what she’d expected.

Ca’tra blinks at Kix for a moment, surprised (and yet not, not really, she can feel the warmth bright and shining in his thoughts, and she supposes this is the Basic word for it), and then she cocks her head to one side and says, slowly, “You know, that was a yes or no question.”

Kix just blinks at her, and there’s a vague mental impression of  _ oh kriff, _ and he says, kinda jerkily, “Um, I don’t…” and then just trails off, almost frozen. He feels  _ nervous, _ worried, and she rolls her eyes a little because really, he’s nervous? What a  _ di’kut. _

_ We have a  _ **_Force bond,_ ** _ Kix, can’t you tell? _ Which doesn’t seem to help much, and she laughs, says, “Is that the Basic word for it?”

He blinks again. “For--what?”

_ “Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum,” _ she hums, slips one arm around his waist and sets the other hand on his shoulder.  _ I assume, if you take the swearing out of it, that translates to “I love you.” _ She pauses, frowns, says,  _ You know, that  _ **_still_ ** _ doesn’t answer my question. _

~~~

Kix is… Kix is kriffing  _ confused _ . She’s holding him, which is… which is good. It’s also good that she knows what  _ love _ means, apparently. She feels happy, and irritated, and she wants to know if he wants to dance yet.

Which is  _ hardly the point _ right now, karking hells, what…? The Force hums a little, amused ( _ kriff you _ , he thinks at it), and it says  _ calm down, little one _ , like kriffing General Kenobi.

“I’m… I mean I can try dancing,” he says, knows he sounds as bewildered as he feels. “But…” But  _ what _ , even? Kriff  _ every karking thing _ . What’s he supposed to say now, some stupid question like “does it matter to you at all that I said that,” because that would be  _ kriffing di’kut’la _ . She knows what it means, she feels happy and warm, but he feels like he just gave a gift to a  _ vod _ only for them to tell him, carelessly, that they already had something just like it. Which is probably childish of him.

Also, he kind of wants to hear her say it back. Except how the  _ kriff  _ is he supposed to explain  _ any of that? _

If he didn’t like her so  _ kriffing much _ …

_ You worry too much, little one _ , the Force informs him, almost dryly, and Kix grumbles at it.

_ And you’re a big, unsympathetic asshole, vod _ .

The Force just rumbles a little, like it’s offended but not enough to do anything about it.

Kix rubs the back of his neck and gives Ca’tra an awkward smile, trying to at least hide the fact that he no longer has  _ any idea _ what to do with himself.

~~~

Kix feels… kind of, not  _ upset, _ but, well… Ca’tra isn’t sure what to call it, but she immediately pulls back a little, stops smiling, frowns worriedly at him.  _ Did I--say something wrong? Kix? _ Oh,  _ no, _ she didn’t mean to mess up like that, she just--she pulls back a little more, curls into herself just a bit.

“No, no,” Kix fumbles, steps forward quickly and shakes his head, reaching back out and tugging her against him. “It’s not--you didn’t say anything wrong, Ca’tra, I just didn’t expect that answer.”

She frowns, still unsure (she doesn’t want to mess this day up, not when it’s been so nice and bright and warm), looks up at him.  _ Is that… I just… is it more--is saying it out loud somehow important? You, we, the bond,  _ and she frowns, shakes her head a bit. Doesn’t know how to explain, so she shrugs a little.  _ I can feel it, I just thought, I don’t know, isn’t it obvious? _

Kix laughs, a little, although he still feels nervous, embarrassed, and he shakes his head. “Maybe to you,  _ mirdala,” _ and then she feels him considering. And then there’s an impression, of giving gifts to his  _ vode _ and gifts in return and the sense of  _ knowing, _ of receiving, of  _ appreciating, _ and words and then there’s a flash of an image of Ahsoka and the Captain, Rex, being--at least to Kix’s thoughts-- “insufferably cuddly”. Which she thinks he didn’t  _ actually _ mean to send.

_ Oh, _ she thinks, feels a bit foolish. She hadn’t ever really considered it to be  _ important, _ it’s just--a fact. Like how Elle loves her, has always loved her, and it’s not something they need to  _ say _ because they just  _ know. _ It’s the same with Jak, with her  _ buir, _ even though he adopted her, because he said he knew her name as his child and that means  _ love, _ that is something unsaid but always known. She tentatively tries to project that to him, the way it’s just--a fact, with a little twist back-and-forth on the balls of her feet (and oops ow she scrapes against the pebbles on the bottom of the stream) and a half-shrug.  _ It’s just… well, Elle is my ori’vod and Jak is my buir and you’re my Kix, I just… it’s just a fact. Something that just is, doesn’t--change, it’s ratiin, it’s darasuum, _ and she looks down at her feet again, uncertain. Doesn’t know what to do.

~~~

“Oh, my Ca’tra,” Kix says, with a fond laugh to hide how awkward he feels. “That’s not exactly your fault.” He runs his hand lightly over her soft black hair, closes his eyes and presses his forehead to hers, still chuckling a little - partly because she says he’s _her Kix_ and it’s like he’s just him, just Kix. Like that’s all she needs him to be. _It’s okay,_ he thinks gently. _I just thought… I assumed you would know._ _We’re okay_.

Just a fact. Just simple. Kix doesn’t consider himself the type to overcomplicate things, but the idea that love is just a forever fact, something  _ known _ , is kind of nice. Maybe a little simpler than he knows how to understand, even, but he does like that.

Still.

“For the record,” he says, “I would like to dance. Although I think I’ll be kriffing terrible at it.”

She leans back and grins shyly at him, says, “For the record, I do, um… I do love you, Kix.”

And he didn’t  _ exactly _ need to, but it’s still  _ thrilling _ to hear it from her, in her voice, her glancing up at him through her lashes. “I love you too,” he says, curling his hand around the back of her head and leaning in to kiss her. He stops, though, just before he can, and says quietly, “Thank you.”

She grumbles, surges up to kiss him because she is not so patient, his  _ tracinya _ , bumps against his nose clumsily. He laughs, grabs her tight and lifts her up against his chest, spins her around so the water splashes around them in silver waves.  _ Is that enough dancing for you, cyar’ika? _

_ You’re a di’kut _ , she informs him, trying to sound grumpy, but she feels too thrilled to pull it off, and he sets her back down in the water with a hum, kisses her lightly one more time and leans back. And there is paint on her dress and hair from him. Kriff. Oops.

_ Um, sorry _ , he says sheepishly.  _ I kinda messed up your dress, cyar’ika _ .

_ I don’t care _ . Ca’tra is grinning, so  _ damn _ bright.

~~~

Kix is smiling like he’s swallowed the sun, and Ca’tra can’t stop  _ grinning _ at him, can’t stop staring, because there’s a light in his eyes and he’s just a little bit flushed and she tightens her arms around him, leans her head on his chest.  _ Jak used to do that with me, _ she thinks, absently, pushes a memory at him. (She’s seven years old and standing on his toes, clinging to his big hands, and there’s warm awe and happiness in his eye, and he says  _ tsikala, ad’ika? _ and she cheers  _ ‘lek, buir! _ and he lifts her off his feet and swings her around so she’s  _ flying, _ and the air whistling through her hair feels like freedom.)  _ When I was little. He’s really not that scary, you know. _

Kix chuckles a bit, smoothes his hand over her hair.  _ Not to you, _ he says wryly.  _ He’s already threatened to rip my hand off if I so much as touch you without permission.  _

She giggles, hums,  _ I wonder what he’d do if he knew you’d kissed me. _

Kix shudders.  _ I don’t. At all. _

_ You’re no fun, _ she pouts, looking up at him, and he smirks.

_ On the contrary, cyar’ika tracinya, I can be  _ **_very_ ** _ fun. I just have a survival instinct. _

_ Prove it. _

He blinks, feels amused and confused.  _ Prove what? That I’m fun? Or that I have a survival instinct? _

_ Di’kut, _ she thinks fondly, rolls her eyes.  _ You know what I mean. _

_ Do I? _ he asks, archly, but she sends a threatening impression and he breaks into a smile again, says  _ fine, then, _ and leans down to kiss her.  _ You’re awfully demanding, Ca’tra. _

She sulks. (Although it’s hard to stay sulky when Kix is  _ looking at her _ like that.) Pushes on his chest a little, to show her displeasure, and huffs.  _ You’re awfully utreekov’la, ner’cabur. And you  _ **_still_ ** _ haven’t really actually danced with me yet, you know. _

Kix feels fond, and exasperated, and he says, “My slacks are getting  _ soaked through, _ Ca’tra--if we’re going to dance, it’s not gonna happen in the water.”

Which is  _ ridiculous, _ and also is  _ not her problem, _ that his pants are wet, and she pouts at him again.  _ Fine, _ she grumbles, and lets him tug her out of the water. Reluctantly. Very reluctantly.  _ You’re still ridiculous. _

_ So are you, _ he says, traces his fingers along the faded paint marks on her face.  _ I told you you’d make a good loth-cat. _

_ I hate you, _ she thinks, not at  _ all _ convincing.

He smirks.  _ Really? That’s funny, ner’cyar’ika, I thought you said you loved me. _

Ca’tra raises her eyebrows, very pointedly.  _ Copaani mirshmure’cye, Kix? _

~~~

_ No _ , Kix says, defensively.  _ That would hurt and Jesse would never let me live it down. _ He slides his arms around her back and sways a little, smirking.  _ Besides, then I wouldn’t look as handsome _ .

Ca’tra raises a dubious eyebrow at him, which is  _ very offensive. _ He does not appreciate that.

_ Your head is too big for your helmet, cabur, _ she says, and Kix grumbles and sends a threat that he'll stop dancing with her if she doesn't shut up. She just scoffs at him.  _ You call  _ **_this_ ** _ dancing, Kix? This is just… swaying. _

_ Yes, and it's nice, _ Kix says stubbornly, because she's in his arms and very close and they can spin some other time. Right now this is just… this is perfect, to him.

Ca’tra hums and starts tracing things on his chest, her other arm going around his waist. Kix smiles and just  _ breathes _ , sways, enjoys the feel of the grass under his feet and the sun on his skin.  _ I love you, _ he thinks, because maybe to Ca’tra it's just a fact, but he's still a little surprised by it, by being able to feel it and not… not being afraid.

~~~

Jak is about ready to send someone in after the two  _ adiike _ (even though Elle keeps reassuring him that this is  _ fine, _ like she would know, this is  _ not fine, _ this is  _ his ad) _ when he  _ finally _ catches sight of a pair of figures making their slow, lazy way across the grass to the transparisteel doors. His  _ ad’ika, _ his  _ Kara’vheh, _ is leaning into her  _ bar’uur’s _ side, and he’s carrying the wrapped bundle of armor, which is--surprising. He hadn’t expected Ca’tra to allow someone else to carry her  _ beskar’gam _ for her--ah.  _ There’s _ the problem.

Ca’tra is, for reasons unknown to the civilized universe, holding a  _ loth-cat _ tightly against her chest and  _ beaming _ at it, on occasion. Why? He’d  _ raised her better than this. _

And she’s absolutely  _ covered _ in paint. So, Jak sees, is the  _ bar’uur. _ Jak growls, clenches one fist. “I  _ do not approve,” _ he snaps, spears Elle with a glare. “If he’s so much as  _ touched her, _ I’ll--”

The clone  _ verd _ known as Jesse snickers, interrupts. “I hope he’s done more than  _ touched her,” _ he says snidely, with a smirk, and Jak does  _ not _ like that.

At all.

“That is _my daughter,”_ he says, in a very low voice, advancing on Jesse. “And you _will_ keep your _duraa’la_ mouth _closed. Firmly._ _Tayli’bac?”_

Jesse gulps. “Yes, sir,” he says, takes a step back, nods firmly. “Definitely, sir, I definitely understand you.”

There are times, Jak thinks, that the scar comes in very handy.

_ “Ba’vodu,” _ Elle says, rolling her eyes, “she’s  _ fine.” _

_ He _ will make that decision for  _ himself, _ thank you very much.

And then the doors open and his  _ ad’ika _ comes in, Kix right behind her, and Jak opens his mouth to say something  _ very disapproving _ of their…  _ physical appearance, _ except that Ca’tra sees him and  _ lights up, _ runs up to him and throws one arm tight around him, the other arm still holding her  _ loth-cat, _ the kriff, against her.  _ “Vor’e, buir, par ner’beskar’gam,” _ and he sighs, gently fits one arm around her still too-thin frame. (Glares over her head at the  _ bar’uur, _ because he  _ still doesn’t like this _ one bit.)

_ “Ba’gedet’ye, ad’ika,” _ he says, resigned.

At the sound of his voice, the loth-cat  _ hisses. _

_ “Pel’ika, luubid,” _ Ca’tra says, annoyed, “you’ll  _ scratch me,” _ and he has not heard her speak this much since before Dooku. The loth-cat meows at her, clearly unimpressed, and Jak curls his lip.

_ This _ is why he dislikes the creatures.

“Why did you bring that  _ creature _ inside?” he asks roughly, frowning at her, and she makes that  _ face _ at him, the one she’d perfected as a child, and he sighs. “Don’t look at me like that,  _ Kara’vheh.” _

She just grins and pats his chestplate utterly unsympathetically, bounces over to Elle to give  _ her _ a hug, and the  _ dikut’la _ loth-cat rubs against Elle’s face. Which is  _ absolutely ridiculous. _ “Why are you covered in paint,  _ bar’uur?” _ Jak asks suspiciously, advancing on the medic.

~~~

Kix shrugs, trying very hard to pretend nonchalance. “Ca’tra threw paint at me,” he says, peering down at himself peevishly. From behind Jak, Jesse is pulling a lot of faces like he's trying to talk to Kix with just his expressions.

_ You started it! _ Ca’tra thinks at him.

_ Yes, I know, but he doesn’t need to know that part _ . Kix has plans for his life that don’t involve his  _ cyar’ika’s  _ adopted  _ buir _ hating him enough to want to cut his fingers off. Kix does a small GAR hand signal at Jesse, the one that means  _ shut up _ . He knows Jak knows a few of the GAR signals, but probably not that one. Especially since Kix has modified the original “be quiet” signal to his own signal that essentially means “if you don’t karking shut up I’m going to pin your hand to a table with a vibroblade.”

“Mm,” Jak growls, giving him a narrow look, and Kix still knows Jak wouldn’t  _ actually _ kill him, probably wouldn’t hurt him too badly - it’s just that he  _ also _ knows that if he ever does hurt Ca’tra, if he does something Jak decides is too out of line, the old  _ mando’ad _ will punish him for it.

“I do not like this,” Jak says, gruffly, gesturing to Kix’s paint-splattered greys.

“I know,” Kix answers. “Sorry about that.” He thinks he sounds a little too tired, instead of sorry -  it’s just, he’s doing his best, and Jak just seems determined to always dislike him.

Jak hmphs quietly and shakes his head. “ _ Adiik _ ,” he says heavily, “I do not like this, and I do not particularly like  _ you _ ,” and that’s not better, damn it. Still more heavily, Jak crosses his arms and says, “But you did a good thing, for my  _ ad _ . I will not forget that.” He narrows his eye. “I am paying you a high compliment,  _ bar’uur _ , so do not disappoint me.”

Kix isn’t sure he should  _ grin _ , but he does anyway, inclines his head in understanding. Behind Jak, Jesse gives him two thumbs up, nodding dramatically, and Kix ignores him. “I know, sir.  _ Vor entye _ .”

~~~

When Ca’tra had been a little girl, right before the civil war took her parents from her, she’d asked her  _ buire _ what it felt like, being in love.  _ How’d you know you wanted to marry daddy? _ she’d asked, with all the bright-eyed innocence of a young child.

Her mother had just smiled, said,  _ it was like being struck by lightning, for me, an instant reaction--I just knew. _

Her daddy had been different.  _ For me it was a long slow thing,  _ he’d said,  _ gradual and inexorable, like the passage of time, _ and she hadn’t really understood what that meant, back then, but then he’d said  _ you’ll understand when you feel it for yourself _ and so she’d figured that would make sense.

Then Dooku took her, and she thought she would  _ never _ feel it, would never fall in love; Dooku wouldn’t allow it, she knew. And that made sense. Why  _ would _ he? It’d just be another reason for her to throw off her shackles and leave him, and he didn’t want her to do that, so he kept her alone and isolated and afraid (and so, so silent), kept her icy and empty and Dark.

But then Kix had come.

Kix had come, and said  _ Sith? If they’re evil, but you aren’t. I just know. _

Kix had taken her arm like she was a fragile thing, made of glass, but something worth  _ protecting, _ worth keeping safe.

Kix had given her the light, that first night, after her dream--had kept doing it, until she learned to reach for it on her own. Kix had stood between her and the Council when they questioned her, had made time to hold her as she slept even though he was needed, had watched her six when she healed Scratch.

Had found a way to give her  _ beskar’gam, _ that essential part of her  _ mando _ heritage she’d never thought she’d possess.

Had planned everything for her, just for her, just so he could see the light in her eyes.

Kix had put paint on her armor and asked her to paint his, had danced with her and kissed her under the liquid golden sunlight and traced the flower in her hair.

And it’s taken a long time, but she understands her  _ buir _ was right: she knows love when it hits her, when she feels it.

With her  _ pel’ika _ curled in her arms and her Kix holding her against his side, she waves at Elle and at her  _ cerar _ and follows her  _ verd _ through the Temple halls to her room. This, she thinks, is  _ mar’eyce, _ this is where she is meant to be, this is her heaven.

Her home is not the far-off moon of Concordia, in a base she spent some six years living in; nor is it the house she grew up in, with her  _ buire, _ the one she lost when she was still too little to recall the details; and it is  _ certainly _ not the base on Mustafar, where she spent six years in icy terror, silent and cold and lost among the lava flows. No, she thinks; her home is not a tangible  _ place, _ is not a set of coordinates to be entered into a navicomputer, is not a world just a few hours in hyperspace away. She doesn’t  _ need _ a fixed destination to give her heart a place to rest. Doesn’t need a planet called  _ Yaim, _ though she thinks she’ll like it there (if he wants her to come). Doesn’t need  _ any _ of that, really. After all, she has her  _ aliit, _ and she has her Kix, and she is  _ free, free, free. _

What more could she  _ ever _ possibly want from life?

_ Fin _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a translations:**
> 
> _bar'uur:_ medic
> 
>  _ori'dush:_ evil
> 
>  _cerar:_ mountain
> 
>  _mir'sheb:_ smartass
> 
>  _utreekov:_ fool, idiot (lit. emptyhead)
> 
>  _Shebe daab bal ne’johaa.:_ sit down and shut up
> 
>  _Ni kar’tayl gai sa’ad:_ "i know your name as my child" Mandalorian adoption vow
> 
>  _bajur:_ parenting, the education and raising of a child
> 
>  _vor entye:_ thank you
> 
>  _mesh'la:_ beautiful
> 
>  _kandosii'la:_ stunning
> 
>  _ori'mesh'la:_ basically, ***extra*** beautiful
> 
>  _pel'ika:_ little soft one
> 
>  _landuur:_ delicate, fragile
> 
>  _copikla:_ cute
> 
>  _ratiin:_ always
> 
>  _darasuum:_ forever
> 
>  _tsikala:_ ready
> 
>  _ner'cabur:_ my guardian/protector
> 
>  _Copaani mirshmure’cye:_ are you looking for a smack in the face
> 
>  _cabur:_ protector/guardian
> 
>  _Kara'vheh:_ stardust
> 
>  _duraa'la:_ disgusting
> 
>  _tayli'bac:_ got it? okay? understand? (often very aggressive)
> 
>  _ba'vodu:_ uncle
> 
>  _Vor’e, buir, par ner’beskar’gam:_ thanks, dad, for my armor
> 
>  _ba'gedet'ye:_ you're welcome
> 
>  _luubid:_ enough
> 
>  _mar'eyce:_ discovery, something found at last, a state of heaven
> 
>  _yaim:_ home

**Author's Note:**

> **Mando'a translations:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  _tra'ika:_ little sky
> 
>  _besom:_ ill-mannered lout, unhygienic person, someone with no manners (in Mandalorian terms)
> 
>  _mirdala:_ clever, intelligent
> 
>  _beskar:_ Mandalorian iron (what their distinctive armor is forged from)
> 
>  _aliit:_ family/clan


End file.
